All Gone
by dncnmndy
Summary: When an agent goes missing, the team finds that the disappearance is linked to something much larger, and much more sinister. But will this help their agent?
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! This is my first Criminal Minds fic, so please read, review and let me know what you think. Criticism welcome! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds

ALL GONE

* * *

"Are you kidding me? He's so ugly." Garcia said, sipping the fruity cocktail on the table in front of her.

"I don't know, Pen, I don't think he's so bad." JJ disagreed. "What do you think, Em?"

"Sorry, Pen, I have to agree with JJ on this one." Emily said. "There's just something to be said about a guy who doesn't look like he puts an entire bottle of hair gel on his head every morning."

JJ laughed. "And those are few and far between." She and Emily clinked glasses and took a drink, laughing at Garcia's obvious disagreement. "Okay, okay. What about…" she scanned the club quickly, "him?" She tilted her head in the direction of the door, indicating a guy that had just walked in.

Garcia considered him. "No. He's creepy."

Emily and JJ laughed.

"Garcia, is there anyone in here that you find attractive?" Emily asked.  
"I told you, I don't do guys in clubs." Penelope insisted.

"That's right, you only do computer guys." JJ laughed.

Garcia grinned. "Hey, at least I know that he's not going to end up drugging me and forcing me into some kind of unwanted sexual relationship."

Emily shook her head. "Pen, not every guy is a criminal."

"I know, but for some reason, I've learned to assume the worst about people. Wonder where I get that from?"

JJ and Emily were quiet. They both knew all too well what that was like. Penelope hadn't learned to overlook that minor job hassle yet.

Garcia saw the changes in her friends' faces and immediately felt the need to change the direction of the conversation.

"Okay, come one. No long faces. I'll shut up about creepers, and we'll go dance with some cuties, okay?" She stood, stumbling just a little from the alcohol, and grabbed JJ and Emily's hands, whooping excitedly. It worked. Emily and JJ grinned and followed her to the dance floor, where they were eagerly enveloped by the guys they'd been eyeing all night. Their monthly girls night out was, once again, turning out to be just what they all needed.

* * *

Emily walked into the BAU office around ten the next morning, huge sunglasses obscuring the top half of her face. She walked to her desk and sat down disappearing behind the mountains of files sitting there. She heard Morgan's laugh.

"Rough night Prentiss?"

She groaned in response. It had been a rough night. She, JJ, and Garcia had drunk and danced the night away until the club closed. She'd barely managed to stay awake until she got back to her apartment. There were messages on her machine from JJ and Pen saying that they'd each made it home, and she sleepily called both of them before collapsing on her bed. When her alarm had gone off that morning, it was accompanied by the pounding drums in her head. She'd taken a hot shower, which helped some. She knew it wasn't the most responsible thing to do, drinking the night before work, but it was almost the end of the month and Pen would have shot both her and JJ if they missed their girls night out. Emily smiled, remembering what she could of last night. She knew they'd danced a lot, and talked of course. She vaguely remembered that Garcia refused to admit that there were any cute guys in the club. That was basically it.

She lifted her head in time to see JJ walk through the office, and had to suppress a laugh when she saw that her colleague was also wearing a pair of giant aviators. Apparently, Emily wasn't the only one who was suffering a massive hangover. JJ didn't even stop to talk. Instead, she balanced her giant cup of coffee in one hand while juggling the keys to her office in the other.

Morgan laughed again. "Girls night out?" he guessed. Getting no response, he continued. "I saw Garcia earlier, and she didn't look any better than you do. You gotta learn to pace yourself Emily."

"Statistically, 76% percent of people are drunk after having fewer than three drinks. Of course, it depends on the type of alcohol and the weight of the person in question, because a person's body mass index heavily influences the rate at which alcohol is absorbed by the body-" Reid chimed in from his desk. Emily hadn't even realized that he was listening.

"Reid," she said, pulling off her glasses to rub her temples, "Shut up. I can't handle any statistics right now." Reid immediately turned back to his desk and Morgan laughed.

"Aw Emily, come on." He stood and walked to her desk. "Reid was just trying to be helpful, weren't you kid?"

Reid spun around in his chair again and opened his mouth, but seeing Emily's face, he shut it again. Emily felt bad. She knew Reid still felt awkward around her after he snapped at her at the homeless shelter. She didn't hold it against him; he was battling a serious drug addiction and she was the new team member. It made her an easy target. After he'd gotten clean, he'd taken her aside and apologized to her. She'd accepted and didn't think anything else of it. It didn't help that he was still feeling guilty about what happened in the compound. She knew that he thought it was his fault for not admitting that he was an agent. He'd apologized repeatedly, and as much as she insisted that it wasn't his fault, she could tell he felt guilty.

"Reid, I'm sorry." She said. "Nothing personal." She smiled at him, relieved when he returned it with one of his own.

"See now, that's nice." Morgan said. "And just because you're being so friendly, Emily, I'm going to tell you my secret hangover cure."

Emily looked up eagerly. "What is it?"

Morgan grinned. "Don't drink the night before!" He danced out of the way as Emily aimed her fist at his gut. He sauntered back to his desk, still laughing.

Emily grinned too. Truthfully, this was one of the best parts of her day. As much as she found her work satisfying, the atmosphere in the bullpen when the team didn't have a case was amazingly relaxed. It was nice to be able to come into the office and talk and laugh with her colleagues instead of storming into buildings, guns drawn, waiting to see what kind of atrocity awaited them. They were her family, and she wouldn't trade that for anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter, I appreciate it! Anyway, here's the next part, let me know what you think and please review!!

* * *

Hotch was standing in his office, looking through the window that overlooked the bullpen. This was one of his habits. Even though the team had promised to profile one another, they'd all done it at one time or another. Now, as Hotch watched the bullpen, he saw the way his team relaxed when they didn't have a case. Of course, he'd seen Emily come in wearing her sunglasses, and clear sign that she was hungover. When JJ had come in a few minutes later, Hotch realized that it must have been their girls night out. Garcia insisted that they do it at least once a month. Even though Hotch didn't like the fact that they were coming to the office hungover, he was glad that they could function outside of the job. He'd seen Gideon fall into that trap. Outside of work, he was basically a recluse. Hotch suspected that that was one of the reasons Gideon left, besides Sarah's death of course.

He watched as Morgan and Emily bantered back and forth, with Reid chiming in with a statistic here and there. He was glad the Reid and Emily were doing okay. He'd talked to the younger profiler after the Cyrus case, and knew that Reid felt guilty about what happened to Emily. It was good to see Reid relaxed for once.

Hotch was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in." he called, expecting JJ. Instead, it was Rossi that walked through the door. Hotch knew that Dave too picked up on the subtler aspects of the teams interaction. Dave came and stood by him.

"They're doing good, Aaron." He said.

"I know." Hotch agreed.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I don't know Dave. I just get a bad feeling."

"About the team?" Dave clarified.

"Yes. Right now it all just seems, I don't know. It seems like everything is finally starting to fall into place, but there's still that feeling that at any moment the team could fall apart. I don't know how to stop that from happening." Hotch explained.

"Aaron, you can't control everything that happens with the team. All you can do is be there to help if things do start to get bad. But I think you're being overly cautious right now. Morgan's working on his trust issues. I think that deep down he knows he can trust us, but he's been through so much it's hard for him to let go. And Reid is doing well too. He's still clean, Aaron, even after everything that happened with Cyrus. He and Emily are both getting back to normal. Hell, with Emily, you wouldn't even know that something like that happened to her." Dave said soothingly.

"I know, I know all of that, Dave. I can't explain it, I really can't."

"Okay, Aaron, okay." Dave gave Hotch one last searching look, then left the room, leaving Hotch free to go back to observing his team until he was interrupted by JJ, telling him that they had a case.

* * *

"Virginia again!" he thought excitedly. "Virginia's turn to lose another one." This was only his second time in Virginia, but he was excited. Then again, he was excited about all the states he visited. His plan was ingenious. Flawless. He could think of hundreds of words to describe what he was doing. It made him think back to how he came up with it.

He'd been busted for soliciting a prostitute a few years ago. He'd accepted the punishment, but his anger hadn't gone away. It wasn't his fault that she put herself out there. If she wanted to do it, and he wanted to pay her for it, why was that wrong? She wasn't even underage! But still, he'd had to pay for his moment of desire. And so he got to thinking. There were certainly more men that would be more than willing to pay for sex. And they'd be willing to pay more if they knew it was safe. So that was what he provided: a safe place for men to live out their wildest fantasies, away from the prying eyes of the police. His customers knew that it was safe to come to him. And business was booming.

He had to keep a healthy supply of women on hand, of course. He prided himself on offering a wide variety of women to choose from. This had been a problem at first. If he kept taking women from one place, someone would notice. That was not what he needed. And so he'd come up with the next brilliant piece of his plan. He could spread them out. If he took them from different places, no one would catch on. People went missing every day. What was one more? He had more than enough money to travel with. So he went state by state, selecting beautiful women one after another to send back to headquarters. It had been three years, and no one had caught on yet. Maybe that was because they never found the bodies.

After the women served their purpose for him, he sold them to his buyers abroad. His women were trained well, and so his contacts were pleased with them, and kept demanding more. When they outgrew their purposes there, they were disposed of. He could honestly say that he had never killed a woman.

He was on the prowl again tonight, looking for the next beautiful woman to add to his stock.

* * *

Hotch couldn't focus on JJ. She was explaining the content of the files, the leads, the suspects, everything. Hotch couldn't shake the feeling that the team was so fragile that even something small could pull them apart, even though he knew he should be focused on the case. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and tried to listen to what JJ was saying.

The case would be in Fort Myers, Florida. Three young men, all blonde, had been shot once in each knee and once in each shoulder. They were dumped in various parts of the city, in plain sight. The local police had no new leads, and they were working against the weather because it was hurricane season. The rain had already washed much of the physical evidence away. When JJ finished speaking, she looked at Hotch.

"Be on the jet in fifteen minutes." He said as he stood and left the room. This did not go unnoticed by his team.

"What's up with Hotch?" Morgan asked.

Emily and JJ shrugged and looked at Rossi.

Rossi shook his head. "It's nothing." He said. The younger profilers knew that they wouldn't get much else out of them, so they too left to go grab their go-bags and prep for the flight.

Less than fifteen minutes later, they were all assembled on the jet, but not for long.

"Agent Hotchner?" the pilot asked. "I need to speak to you." Hotch stood and walked to the cockpit. After a short conference, Hotch came back, looking even more intense than usual.

"There's a severe storm warning in Fort Myers. They're not letting any flights land until tomorrow at the earliest. Go home, review the case files, and get some rest. Meet back here at eight tomorrow morning."

The team gathered their things and filed off the plane.

* * *

Hotch went back to his office before leaving. These days, he wasn't a big fan of being at home. Without Jack, the place was empty. Besides, he wasn't tired yet; he could still get some reports done.

A few hours later, he stood, stretched, and grabbed his coat and keys. He walked down to the garage, making sure that his team's cars were gone. He really wished that he could get rid of this feeling he had. It was getting really annoying.

* * *

Rossi was tempted to join Aaron in his office, but thought better of it. Instead, he drove home, anticipating the glass of scotch he would pour as he laid back on his couch and watched the news. He had three ex wives, and he preferred being alone to being with any of them.

* * *

Morgan drove straight home. He hated when things like this happened; he got into profiler mode, ready to go solve the case, almost craving the adrenaline rush he got when he kicked doors down. And now he had to wait for that.

He laughed softly to himself as he pictured Garcia, Emily, and JJ walking into the office a few minutes apart, sunglasses on and cups of coffee in hand. He was glad they were having fun.

* * *

Emily was tired. Drinking before going to work was not the best idea she'd ever had. She stepped out of the shower and towel dried herself. She slid into her gym shorts and a T-shirt and climbed into bed. She checked her alarm clock, set her gun on the bedside table, and rolled over onto her side, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

JJ went home to an ecstatic Will and a sleeping Henry. She knew that Will still wasn't keen on her deciding not to leave the BAU. But she couldn't help it. She liked being the person that the families could turn to when they needed help.

She walked into the baby's room and picked Henry up. He stirred a little, but settled down as she started humming softly to him. She heard Will creep into the room and he snaked an arm around her waist, stroking Henry's head as he did so. JJ wouldn't rather be anywhere than where she was now.

* * *

Garcia was back in her apartment, lying in bed next to Kevin. He'd been excited that she hadn't had to leave tonight. And now, here she was, relaxing with the man she was pretty sure she loved. They'd drunk wine, even though she really didn't need any more alcohol, and kissed. Everything was perfect.

* * *

Emily's felt a sharp pinch in her thigh. Damn bugs. She needed to call the exterminator again. She brushed her hand along her leg to get rid of whatever was there. Her eyes never opened, and she was back asleep in seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the wait, I'll try to have the next chapter up soon! As always, enjoy and review!

* * *

By ten o'clock the next morning, the team was on the plane, ready to go. Except for Emily.

"Does anyone know where Prentiss is?" Hotch grumbled. He was already annoyed that they couldn't fly out last night. Who knew how big this window would be? There could be another storm at any moment, so they had to get to Florida as soon as possible.

Morgan took a quick look around the plane. He'd been talking with Garcia, and hadn't even paid attention to the arrivals of the other members of the team. "Haven't seen her. Maybe she overslept?"

Hotch thought about it. That wasn't like her. "Did you three go out again last night?" he asked accusingly, glaring at JJ and Garcia.

Both shook their heads. "I'll try to call her." JJ said. She stepped to the other end of the plane to make the call.

The team watched apprehensively, waiting for JJ to start scolding Emily for oversleeping. However, they listened as JJ left a message telling Emily that they were on the jet and waiting for her, and to please call JJ when she got the message.

Hotch's look of annoyance had changed to a look of concern. Granted, it was an infinitesimal difference, but his team noticed. Rossi especially. He was the only one to whom Aaron had confided about his "bad feeling". "Aaron, I'm sure she's fine." He reassured. "Maybe there was traffic, or her phone is dead, or her power is out. As soon as she realizes she's late, she'll catch a flight and meet up with us in Florida." Rossi reasoned.

Hotch wasn't appeased, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't spare any agents to go looking for her without evidence that something was wrong. He nodded his agreement and went to tell the pilot that they were ready to take off.

Garcia was typing at lightning speed on her laptop. Reid looked over her shoulder to see that she was accessing hospital records looking for women that fit Emily's description that had been admitted within the time frame since she'd left work last night. Reid could also see that there were none.

As the plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air, the team tried to focus on the case. On the surface, everyone seemed to agree that there was a perfectly normal explanation for Emily's absence. On the inside, everyone was running through worst case scenarios: car accident, fire at her house, she fell down the stairs, someone had kidnapped her. All of these ideas seemed absurd. They would know if she'd gotten into an accident, she would have called. They would have heard about a fire. She might have fallen down the stairs, but given her fitness and coordination levels, that was unlikely. That left a kidnapping, which was also unlikely. Emily was a fully trained FBI agent. She was difficult to surprise, and was capable of disarming almost anyone she met, including Hotch, but not Morgan, unless he was drunk. If she'd been kidnapped, it likely meant that she was hurt, or worse.

The team tried to put these ideas out of their heads as they approached the Ft. Myers airport. They disembarked, greeted the local police, and got to work.

* * *

Emily woke up slowly, feeling extremely groggy. Her head hurt, and her arms felt heavy. She rolled over to check her clock. Where was the damn clock? She'd set it last night. She sat up thinking that maybe she'd knocked it onto the floor. But when she sat up, she realized that she had bigger problems.

She wasn't in her bed. She wasn't even in her own room. To her, it almost looked like she was in a hotel room. She was laying in the middle of a king size bed. In front of her was a flat screen TV mounted to the wall. There was a couch in the corner, along with a large closet that appeared to be attached to a chest of drawers. Emily saw another doorway that presumably led to a bathroom and on the far side of that was a mini-fridge.

Why was she in a hotel? Had she and the team already left for the case? She thought she was in a hotel, but it was strange that she couldn't remember the plane ride, or going over the case files.

Emily shook her head, trying to clear it. Slowly, she stood up, testing her weight. She walked to the door to the room and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge.

"Hello?" she called loudly, banging her fist on the door. "Hotch? Morgan?" She kept banging. "Anyone?" There was no response from outside. "Damn." She muttered.

She walked back to the bed and sat down on the edge. That's when she saw it. There was a three ring binder, like the kind you use in high school, sitting on top of the chest of drawers. Hesitantly, she grabbed it and opened it. There were only a few sheets of paper in the binder, but they made it instantly clear that she was not in the same hotel as the team. She didn't know where the hell she was.

_Dear Emily,_ (the top sheet in the binder read)

_I'm very pleased that you are able to join our community. I saw you driving last night, and knew that you would be perfect. I hope that your journey was comfortable; you slept the entire time, which I took as a good sign._

_I'm sure you are wondering why you are here, and what exactly "here" is. I will answer this question as completely as I can. You are here because you are a beautiful woman. Yes, Emily, the answer is as simple as that. As a beautiful woman, you have an obligation to the men of society. This obligation is what has brought you here._

_Please try to make yourself at home here. You will find everything you need in the closet and drawers. As a newcomer, you have a three day solitary period that is customary for all of our newcomers. After that period, you will be introduced to the others that reside here, and given a short tour of the facility. Also after that period, you will fulfill your obligation to society._

_An honor, as always,_

_Matchmaker_

Emily reread the note a few times, not believing what she was reading. With a trembling hand, she shut the binder and walked slowly to the chest of drawers. She opened the top one. She saw the satin and lace and almost snorted with laughter. Lingerie? Really? Emily was not a lingerie girl. She slept in sweatpants for crying out loud. She noticed, thankfully, that she was still wearing the gym shorts she'd gone to bed in the night before. Had it been the night before? She had no way to know what time it was; there were no windows, no clock, and no calendar. Opening and closing the other drawers she found similar things. The bottom drawer held a couple pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts. She closed that drawer and moved on to the closet. The closet floor was covered by various pairs of shoes, mostly strappy high heels. There were a few pairs of dressy flats, some boots, and one pair of tennis shoes. Hanging on the racks in the closet were cocktail dresses of varying lengths, colors, and styles. Emily shut the closet doors and collapsed on the bed.

"I'm in a freaking brothel!" she thought. She tried to compartmentalize. The team was going to Florida, but surely they wouldn't leave without her. They were probably looking for her right now. It wouldn't take long for them to find her. "Hopefully it won't take longer than three days." She thought wryly. Otherwise, she would be forced to see just how well her compartmentalization worked.


	4. Chapter 4

Here's the next chapter. As always, enjoy and please review!!!

* * *

It was one of the team's shortest cases. After only a day and a half in Florida, during which time they'd profiled two Unsubs that were killing together. They'd profiled that one was significantly younger than the other, and more reluctant to kill. And then, like clockwork, that younger Unsub walked into the police station and confessed, having been spooked when he heard the FBI was involved. And so, the team was once again on the jet, headed back to Quantico.

After doing a final review of the case, the team migrated to different parts of the plane. Normally, most of them slept. This time, there wasn't one person on that plane that hadn't pulled out their cell phone. JJ was leaving another message for Emily while Morgan texted her. Reid was on the phone with Garcia, trying to see if she'd been able to locate Emily. Rossi resorted to calling Ambassador Prentiss to see if Emily had gone for a visit. As he hung up, he felt a moment of sadness as his conversation with the Ambassador ran through his head.

"Good evening Ambassador Prentiss. This is David Rossi from the FBI, I work with Emily."

"Good evening David. I'm afraid I'm expecting a rather important call. What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you had heard from Emily at all in the past few days."

"I can't say I have. Emily and I don't have much contact these days."

"I see. So she hasn't come to visit you or anything?"

"No. David, I'm sorry, but I really must be going." With that, Rossi heard the telltale click in his ear that told him he'd been hung up on. Ambassador Prentiss obviously had more important things to handle than her daughter. There was the chance that she was lying, but Dave couldn't see any reason for her to do so. Still, Ambassador Prentiss' reaction bothered him. Most parents would immediately assume the worst and ask what had happened, but this woman hadn't. For a moment, his heart went out to Emily as he thought about what her life must have been like growing up.

Hotch watched his team search for Emily. He was worried, more worried than he was letting on. He knew he had to be strong for the team's sake. He couldn't break down in front of them. He still clearly remembered the first day he and Emily met. When she walked into his office, he sucked in a breath. She was so beautiful. Elle was pretty of course, and so is JJ, but there was something different about Emily. He'd been annoyed from the start that politics might have had something to do with this woman being placed on his team. As she soon explained to him, after a hard case, she was there because she deserved to be. Hotch admired her. She had the guts to stand up to him and make sure that he knew that she was right for the job. Not many people would do that. Not many people could do that.

He saw JJ hang up her phone. He could tell that she was worried. He could tell that the entire team was worried. While they were in Florida, he saw the surreptitious glances to cell phones, the way his team stepped away to "go to the bathroom" and came back looking more despondent than before. When they had had to call Garcia, he could tell that she'd been crying. They'd all been distracted. Even he was guilty of obsessively checking his messages, hoping that there would be one from Emily. There never was.

He looked at Dave, who was sitting across from him. They made eye contact, and Rossi answered the question in Hotch's eyes with a slight nod. Hotch stood up.

"Could everyone come over here please?" He waited as the team moved to his end of the plane. "Until we find her, we're treating Emily's disappearance as a case. Even if it turns out to be something innocent, we will not stop until we find her." He looked at JJ. "We will not take any new cases until she's found. Give any cases that need attention to other teams. Talk to Strauss and make sure she understands the situation. If she has any problems, tell her she can talk to me. Morgan and Reid, go back and talk with Garcia. Have her access the street cameras near Emily's home to see if they caught her at all. Also, talk to Garcia about places Emily might have gone: bars, clubs, restaurants, you know the drill. Have her check hospital records too, although I think she probably already has. Rossi and I will go to her apartment. Guys, we have to treat this as if it's any other case. That's the only way we're going to be able to do this." Hotch nodded once at his team, dismissing them. No one moved. They all sat there until the jet landed. When it did, with one last look at each other, they filed off the jet and to their respective destinations.

* * *

"What do you mean you're not taking any more cases?" Strauss asked.

"Ma'am, Agent Prentiss is missing. Agent Hotchner asked me to inform you of the situation. He also told me that you can direct any questions directly to him."

Strauss nodded. "Very well. I will do just that." JJ stood to leave. When she reached the door, Strauss spoke. "Agent Jareau." JJ turned. "Good luck." Strauss dismissed.

* * *

Hotch knocked on Emily's door. There was no answer. He knocked again. No answer. Hotch pulled a key out of his wallet. Rossi didn't think anything of it. It was customary that members of the team leave a spare key with their team leader in case of emergency. Hotch apparently kept them in his wallet. He unlocked the door and he and Rossi stepped inside.

The message indicator on Emily's home phone was blinking and Rossi pressed the button. Messages from the team filled the inbox. Hotch and Rossi moved around the apartment, checking for anything useful. Nothing looked out of the ordinary on the lower level, so they moved upstairs. After a quick check of the guest room and the bathroom, they moved to Emily's bedroom.

The bed was unmade. That didn't suit the rest of Emily's apartment. Everything else was neat. Nothing out of place.

"Her cell phone is still here." Rossi said. "So are her credentials and her gun." This didn't look good at all.

"There's no blood though." Hotch said, knowing that that didn't mean anything. There were ways to subdue or even kill someone without spilling blood.

* * *

"You may enter the cave of the all-seeing, all-knowing Penelope Garcia." Was how Garcia answered the knock at the door. It opened and Morgan and Reid walked in.

"Hey Baby Girl" Morgan walked to her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hotch wants you to tap into the street cameras near Emily's apartment. He also wants you to check hospital records-"

"Gorgeous, I am way ahead of you. There's still no record in any hospital within 100 miles with someone that matches Emily's name or description. She also didn't visit any of our normal hotspots. I'll tap into the street cameras now." Garcia's hands flew across the keyboard as images popped up and disappeared on screen. Reid moved to Garcia's other side and leaned over her shoulder.

"Okay, genius man, it amazes me that you can list the health risks of sitting in a small room surrounded by computers, but that you don't have any ideas about personal space." Garcia said, still typing at lightning speed. Reid moved back.

"Sorry." He said.

"Okay, here we go my furry little friends. There's a camera at a stoplight on the corner of Emily's street. You can only catch a glimpse of the door to the apartment building, but that's the best I can do." Garcia explained.

"Garcia, go back to two nights ago when we couldn't leave for Florida." Reid said. Garcia did. "Okay, there's Emily walking into her apartment building." Reid said. The three watched as Emily opened the door and disappeared inside.

"So she made it home safely." Morgan said. "Garcia, run through the tape from here and see if you can catch Emily leaving." Garcia hit a button and the tape sped up.

"Wait! Garcia, go back!" Reid exclaimed. Garcia complied. "Now take it down to normal speed." She did, and they watched, not sure what Reid had seen. They watched a man calmly exit the apartment building and walk across the street, presumably to his car. He was carrying a large duffel bag.

"What did you see, kid?" Morgan asked.

"Garcia go back again." Reid commanded. She did, and they watched the man leave again. "Zoom in on his bag." Garcia did, and they all saw it. The bag was unzipped a little bit at one end. Garcia ran the image through a filter and it became clearer. A pale forehead was visible within the bag.


	5. Chapter 5

So, here's the next chapter. I'd really like to know what you all think of the story, so please review. I'd rather have criticism than no reviews at all. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Emily was certain that she was slowly going crazy. For the past two and a half days, she'd sat in her room staring at the walls. She'd stubbornly refused to wear anything that was provided for her, choosing instead to rinse her own clothes in the sink and wear them day after day. She did eat the food that was provided though. She knew that she would need her strength, especially if the team couldn't get to her soon. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought. She'd been trying to come up with an escape plan since she'd been stuck in the room, but so far, she couldn't think of anything. There were no weak points in the walls, nor was there anything that she could use as a weapon.

Climbing under the sheets of her bed, she tried to fall asleep, but her mind was racing. Tomorrow was the end of her "three day solitary period" and she wasn't sure what to expect. Actually, she was sure of what would happen, but she preferred to remain in denial. She did know that there was one thing going for her. Her kidnappers had underestimated her. Or at least, she was pretty sure they had. She was a fully trained FBI agent who was trained in hand to hand combat. She went to the gym regularly. She'd disarmed Unsubs that were twice her size. These thoughts ran through her head as she drifted to sleep. Maybe she could hold out long enough for the team to find her. Surely they were close.

* * *

The rest of the team was working hard back at Quantico. No one had gone home, nor had anyone slept. After Reid had discovered the body in the duffel bag, Garcia had been hard at work trying to get an ID on the man who'd left Emily's apartment building. Rossi and Hotch had found an empty syringe under Emily's bed. Presumably, it had been left by the Unsub. There were no prints, but there were traces of ketamine inside it. The concentration suggested that Emily would have been knocked out for almost a full day, which was more than enough time to transport her almost anywhere.

The Unsub was limited with his means of transportation. He couldn't use a plane or train, or even a cab because he couldn't risk being seen. That meant he had a car of his own. Hotch and Rossi had canvassed the neighborhood, asking the tenants if they'd seen any strange cars parked on the street that night. No one had. So far, they had nothing. And nothing wasn't good.

* * *

Emily woke up early the next morning. Or at least, she assumed it was early, she was still tired and didn't feel like she'd slept for very long. She stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail and studied her face in the mirror. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and there were dark circles under her eyes. As far as she was concerned, this was a good thing.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she didn't answer. Before she had time to make a decision, the door swung open and a large man carrying an equally large gun stepped inside, followed by a smaller, more handsome man. Emily repressed a shudder. Oddly, she felt more fear at the sight of the smaller man than the large gun his accomplice carried. There was something in the smaller man's eyes that scared her.

"Hello, Emily. May I call you Emily?" he asked.

"No." Emily said defiantly, willing her voice to stay even.

This didn't seem to deter the man, who only smiled. "Very well, what would you prefer I call you?"

"I would prefer that you not call me anything. In fact, I would prefer to leave." Emily said.

"Well, I'm very sorry that I will not be able to fulfill that request, Emily. I'm afraid that you have a lot to learn before you can leave. By the way, you may call me Matchmaker. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, we will begin the tour of the facility. I trust that you have found the items provided for you in your room?" Emily saw his eyes travel over her body, taking in her disheveled look with a look that appeared to be a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"I have." Emily answered. "And I can assure you that I would not be caught dead in any of it." She said, matching the Matchmaker's formal tone.

"I suppose we'll see about that. If you would follow me please, Emily."

When she didn't move, the larger man grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her to Matchmaker's side. She yanked her arm free and followed Matchmaker out of the room. Her room was at the end of a long hallway. Again, she had the fleeting thought that the facility looked like a hotel. Doors lined the hallway on both sides, and on each door there was a picture and a name. As Emily walked down the hallway, she took in picture after picture of beautiful women. The photos were all candid shots that appeared to have been taken at different locations. Some looked as though other people had been cut out of the picture. These had to have been taken before these women were kidnapped. Matchmaker caught her staring at the photos.

"As you can see, I only bring the most attractive women to our facility here. And there's no need to worry, we'll have your picture taken later today." He continued to ramble as they exited the hallway, but Emily tuned him out, preferring to study her surroundings without his constant stream of words.

She saw a staircase leading upstairs, presumably to another hallway. How many women were being held here?

They passed a large, Olympic sized pool, around which gorgeous women in bikinis were lounging. There were men by the pool too, talking, caressing, and kissing the women. A large skylight overhead let sunlight stream into the building, giving the sense that the pool was outside, even though there were walls surrounding it.

"You're free to move about the facility as you please." Matchmaker said. "The pool is always open, but proper attire is a requirement, of course. You may dine in your room or at the restaurant over there." He gestured off to the left. "It's open from eight in the morning to eight in the evening." He glanced at Emily. "Do you have any questions?"

Emily didn't answer. She was still taking everything in and analyzing it all. Just by the pool there were five armed men. She couldn't even see a door that could lead to the outside. Damn. She was pulled out of her reverie when she felt a hand on the small of her back. She stiffened and moved to the side, away from Matchmaker, who still had that infuriating bemused look on his face. "I was merely going to take you back to your room."

"I can walk on my own." Emily said.

"Very well. I'll leave you to it. "Lars will accompany you. And Emily? I expect that the next time I see you, you will be dressed appropriately." Matchmaker grinned. "I must say, I can't wait."

Emily turned away and began walking back to her hallway. "Not a chance." She muttered. Evidently, Matchmaker heard her. He lunged for her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. The bemused look on his face was gone, replaced by a look of pure ferocity. He brought his arm back and backhanded her across the face, sending Emily spinning and falling to the floor.

He bent down until his face was even with hers. "I suggest that you think long and hard about what you're going to do with your time here. I can guarantee you that it can be as unpleasant as you make it." He threatened.

Lars yanked Emily to her feet. Emily gingerly felt her cheek. It was already swelling. Lars pulled her back to her room. Emily glanced at her door. Her name was written there in elegant script. Below it was a picture of her. In it, she was smiling. Ironically, the original picture had a shot of the entire team, something Garcia had insisted on one day when they didn't have a case. The rest of the team had been cut out, leaving only Emily. Emily felt her heart surge with hope once again. Her team wouldn't let her down.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone, I'm really sorry that this update took so long. I've been really busy, so I haven't had much time to write. Anyway, I hope this chapter is worth the wait. Enjoy, and please review!!

* * *

The Matchmaker was in a good mood. He was driving to a small airport where one could charter a flight without filing a flight plan. There was a fee, of course, but ever since his business had taken off, there was no problem with that. One of his best clients, a disgustingly wealthy man from Germany, had placed an order and The Matchmaker was about to fill it. He glanced in the rearview mirror, assuring himself that the gorgeous woman back there was still unconscious. He liked to use ketamine. It was effective as a sedative, and the side effects included muscle weakness, which was useful when they woke up. His thoughts drifted to the newest girl he'd brought in. There was something about her that both excited and frightened him. Usually, he got a thrill when he saw the obvious hopelessness in their eyes as he gave his "tours". They were already broken when they got there. And if they weren't, it didn't take long. But not this one. He remembered that her name was Emily. She was different. One part of him was thrilled to see how long it would take to break her. The other part of him wondered why she was so confident. It seemed like she knew something he didn't. And that was what made him nervous. He liked to know that he had total control over what these women did, saw, and felt. He wanted them to feel alone. With this one, he wasn't sure.

He pulled up to the long driveway of the airport. The private plane was already waiting on the runway. The Matchmaker turned off the car and got out. He walked to one of the men that was waiting by the plane and gestured to the car. The other man handed him a black briefcase. The Matchmaker didn't need to open it to know that the money would all be there. Nodding once, he turned back to his car and passed the other man who was now carrying and unconscious figure. The entire transaction was completed in less than five minutes. The Matchmaker was back in his car, headed toward home. He smiled, thinking about Emily again. This was going to be fun.

* * *

The team was sitting in the conference room. It had been almost a week since Emily had disappeared and they weren't any closer to finding her than they were then. Garcia hadn't been able to find the guy on any of the traffic cameras near Emily's apartment building. Morgan and Reid had been checking up on old cases, looking for an Unsub that would most likely target Emily more than any other member. They hadn't found any. Awhile back, Emily had been hit in the head by an Unsub that was kidnapping women by using his own son. However, he'd died a few months ago. Cyrus was dead, obviously. Really, none of their previous Unsubs could have done this. They were all either dead or in prison. The case was quickly going cold, and that wasn't good. Hotch had been in Strauss's office all morning filling her in on the case. With no new leads, Strauss wanted the team to start taking cases again.

"Agent Hotchner, I feel bad for your team, I really do. And of course, I, as much as anyone else, want Emily to be found safely. However, I can't allow your team to stop taking cases indefinitely. You have two days. If there are no new significant leads by then, your team will need to get back in the field." Hotch stood up to leave. If they only had two days, his team had a lot do to.

* * *

Emily had stubbornly stayed in her room all morning. She'd been told that during the day, her door would be unlocked so that she could come and go as she pleased. She had no desire to leave the room unless she was leaving permanently. Instead, she sat on the bed with the TV on, even though she wasn't really watching it. She jumped slightly as she heard her door open. Lars walked in, wielding his huge gun, as always.

"Don't you knock?" Emily asked, annoyed.

"Let's go." Lars grunted.

"Go where?" Emily demanded.

"The pool. We're short on girls at the moment, so you're up. Get dressed."

"You can't be serious." Emily said

Lars shifted his gun so that it was pointed straight at her. "I promise you that I am. Now get dressed."

Emily stood her ground. She wasn't afraid to die. She was, however, extremely stubborn. She would not give this thug the satisfaction of shooting her right now. For that reason, she walked over to the chest of drawers and pulled out a tangle of fabric that she knew was a simple black bikini. She'd seen the women by the pool wearing them yesterday. She walked into the bathroom and changed, emerging a few minutes later. Lars grabbed her arm and guided her out of the room. When they reached the pool, Emily sat on a lounge chair between a gorgeous redhead and a blonde woman that reminded her of JJ. Lars sauntered out of the pool area, and Emily surveyed the scene. She watched as a well dressed business man entered, grabbed a brunette out of her chair and dragged her off to her room.

"Bastard." Emily muttered. The redhead to her right looked over at her.

"You're new?" she asked.

"Yes." Emily answered. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know for sure. I think it's been around seven months."

"Seven months? Are you serious?" Emily asked.

"I've been here for over a year." The blonde on Emily's left spoke up.

Emily couldn't believe it. "Are you sure?"

"I've been counting. Every night when they come by and lock the doors, I scratch another mark in the wall behind my bed. I can promise you that it's been more than a year."

Emily shook her head. The three were quiet for a moment, and then Emily spoke up again. "Where are you from?" She didn't recognize either of them, and that bothered her. The FBI was always called in on kidnappings. She hadn't received a notice about either of them.

"Portland." The redhead answered.

"Oregon?" Emily exclaimed. That would explain it. She turned to the woman on her left. "What about you?"

"Brooklyn."

Emily didn't say anything. This Unsub was taking women from across the country. That was why she didn't recognize them. That was why no one had linked all of these disappearances. If he was taking women from different states, chances were that the local police hadn't didn't have a clue that they were linked. And that meant that the BAU wouldn't be called in. And that didn't bode well for Emily.


	7. Chapter 7

Here's the next chapter, enjoy and please, please review!!

* * *

Emily was sitting in her room again. After her "pool duty" had been fulfilled, she'd been escorted back to her room. She'd quickly changed into the same pair of sweatpants she'd been wearing almost every day. Right now, she was trying to convince herself that it was still possible for the team to find her. Even if they didn't know that this was a serial kidnapping case, Hotch wouldn't let his team work on any other case until they found her. And neither would JJ, or Morgan, or anyone else. Strauss was the problem. Her dislike for Hotch wasn't a secret, by any means. If he asked for time to find her, Strauss would only give him the bare minimum, even if she was friendly with Emily's mother.

Even so, she reasoned with herself, even if they were on another case, that didn't mean they would stop trying to find her. Garcia would have a whole set of computers devoted to finding her. Morgan would be placing phone calls to everyone and anyone she knew when he took a break to "go to the bathroom." Reid would work on two geographical profiles at the same time, hers, and the case's. JJ would keep in touch with the local people working the case no matter where they were. And Rossi would keep jotting ideas in that little black book he always carried around. Emily sighed. As hard as she tried to convince herself otherwise, it was entirely possible that she would have to get herself out of here.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door to her room swung open. Emily jumped to her feet and watched as a well dressed businessman type sauntered through. He paused, taking in her appearance.

"You know? You are more gorgeous than your pictures." He shut the door behind him and started walking toward her. For every step he took, she took one back. She could only go so far though, before she felt the hard wall against her back. The man kept walking toward her until they were face to face. He raised his hand and gently started to push a strand of hair away from her face. Emily reacted instantly, slapping his wrist away from her face and ducking away from the wall and away from him.

Emily heard a chuckle. "Feisty, aren't you?" The man started toward her again, and they repeated the same stepping sequence until Emily was once again pinned against a wall. He raised his arm and grabbed the back of her neck quickly and painfully, faster than even she could react. He pressed his lips against hers, pushing his body against hers so that there was no room between them.

In an instant, her FBI training kicked in. Bringing her knee up between his legs, she heard him grunt, and their bodies separated. Taking advantage of this, Emily's fist collided with his cheekbone. She heard a groan of pain and took the opportunity to push him to the floor and step on his neck, pressing down hard with the sole of her foot. She watched his face turn red, then bluish. Finally, he stopped moving. Removing her foot, she bent down and felt for a pulse. There wasn't one.

Emily walked away and sat on the bed again. She'd just killed a man, the same man that was going to have raped her if she hadn't. Emily realized that her hands were shaking. Even though it was a routine part of her job to apprehend Unsubs, and a fact that they occasionally died, she never could get used to the idea that she was capable of killing a person.

After awhile, Emily regained her composure. She stepped into the bathroom and studied herself in the mirror. Her hair was messed up, and her face was flushed. He cheek was still swollen where The Matchmaker had hit her. Other than that, she looked okay. She brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and started to walk back out of the room.

She jumped as her door swung open again, and she steeled herself for another attack. Instead, she heard Lars' voice.

"Mr. Smith? Mr. Smith your time is up. It's time to-" Emily heard Lars' voice break off, presumably as he saw the body lying on the floor. Emily stepped out of the bathroom just as Lars turned around. He moved toward her faster than she could react, wrapping a fistful of her hair in his beefy hand. He dragged her out of the room and up a flight of stairs. He stopped at an unnumbered door with no picture and no name. Knocking once, he promptly shoved her inside.

"What's this?" The Matchmaker asked.

"She killed him." Lars spat.

"Killed who?" Matchmaker asked slowly.

"Mr. Smith." Lars said. Though they used the name Smith for all of their clients, Matchmaker understood this to mean that Emily had killed the man she was supposed to be entertaining.

"Thank you Lars. You can go." Lars exited the room, and Matchmaker stood. Emily steeled herself and stood strong, willing her hands to stop shaking. "You are a difficult one, aren't you?" he asked softly.

Emily didn't answer. As a response, she merely lifted her chin almost imperceptibly, though it was not lost on the man in front of her.

"And you're proud of it." Before Emily knew what was coming, his fist sent her spinning across the room. He'd hit her in the same spot as before, and tears of pain welled in Emily's eyes. Blinking them away, she was reminded of the situation with Cyrus awhile back. Another punch sent her crashing against the wall. Thankfully, there was no mirror for her to shatter this time. As she fell to the floor, she was only vaguely aware of the yelling that was coming from The Matchmaker. Something about how she needed to behave, and if she didn't, she'd be sorry. He could make her miserable, he said, and he had no qualms about doing it.

Spitting blood out of her mouth, Emily managed to utter three words before she lost consciousness.

"Go to hell."

* * *

Minutes later, the Matchmaker had called Lars to take Emily back to her room. He sat on the bed and rubbed his temples, fighting off the headache that was forming. Emily was a problem. He could not have a girl in his framework that caused this much trouble. He knew that she'd been difficult, not wearing proper attire, mouthing off, and now she'd killed one of his clients.

The thing was, though, that he didn't accept defeat. Killing Emily now was a cop-out, and something that he refused to do. He would have to get creative. He stood and walked to the closet in his room, pulling out a large box filled with photographs. This was his own personal treasure trove, his way of reliving some of his favorite memories. Each of the pictures had pieces missing. Each of the missing pieces featured one of the women that had once resided here. These pictures were the source of the pictures on the doors of the facility. The Matchmaker knew who belonged in each picture. He remembered their faces. He rifled through the box until he found the picture he'd taken from Emily's apartment. There were six other people in the picture, all smiling. He remembered their faces.


	8. Chapter 8

So here's the next chapter! Again, sorry it took so long, I ran into some writer's block. Anyway, enjoy and please review!

* * *

The team was still working non-stop. No one wanted to leave, and it took Hotch threatening to have Strauss put them on leave to get anyone to walk out the door for a few hours of rest. Hotch, of course, didn't take his own advice and instead slept for short periods of time in his office. Right now, he was sitting at his desk looking over the pictures from Emily's apartment for the umpteenth time. Something wasn't sitting right with him. Technically, yesterday was their last day to work on the case, according to Strauss. Even so, he'd sent both JJ and Reid home last night to get some sleep. JJ hadn't seen Henry all day, and Reid had fallen asleep at his desk twice. Hotch and Rossi had all but shoved them out the door last night. Reid had already come back, after less than six hours at home. At least he looked better. JJ wasn't in yet, but Hotch was sure it wouldn't be long before she came in, coffee in hand.

Sighing, he turned his head back toward the stack of photos in front of him. He kept coming back to one photo, one of the bedroom where they'd found the syringe. He was missing something, he just didn't know what.

Hotch jumped as he heard a knock at his office door. Glancing at his clock, he realized that he'd fallen asleep for about an hour. The person knocked again and he saw Rossi stick his head into the office.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, trying to look as though he hadn't been asleep.

"JJ hasn't come in yet. Have you heard from her?" Rossi asked. Hotch noted the undertone of concern that coated his voice, a rarity for David Rossi.

"No." Hotch immediately reached for his cell phone, checking for messages. There were none. He pressed 3 on his speed dial, pressing his phone to his ear as he saw Rossi shake his head.

"She's not answering her cell phone or her home phone." He said. "Neither is Will."

Hotch grabbed his gun and stood up, racing out of his office with Rossi right behind him. Morgan and Reid were standing in the bullpen, and when they saw Hotch flying down the stairs, they too grabbed their weapons and started running out of the office to the parking garage.

After a quick scan of the lot, they were sure that JJ's car wasn't there. They piled into one of the SUVs, Hotch at the wheel, and peeled out of the lot, sirens blazing. Morgan and Reid were in the backseat, and Reid was beating himself up.

"I should have followed her home man. I should have gone with her." Reid shook his head.

"Hey, listen to me kid. We don't know what happened. She may be perfectly fine, just asleep in her bed with the phone turned off. This isn't your fault kid. You need to remember that." Morgan said quietly. Reid didn't respond and Morgan double checked his gun, making sure it was loaded.

The SUV screeched to a stop outside JJ's house. Her car was in the driveway, next to Will's. Maybe she just was sleeping with the phone turned off. Hotch and Rossi went up to the front door while Reid and Morgan circled around the back of the house. They quickly returned and reported that there was nothing back there.

Hotch knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, and there was still no answer. He looked at Rossi, who nodded. Hotch stepped aside and Morgan took his place. With a well aimed kick, Morgan took the door off its hinges. The four drew their weapons and entered the house. They could hear Henry crying. After clearing the lower level, they moved quickly up the stairs. As they drew closer, Henry's cries grew louder. Reid and Morgan went to the nursery and saw Henry in his crib. As Reid tried to calm him down, Morgan cleared the room. Hotch and Rossi went to the master bedroom. It was empty. So was the bathroom. And the closets. Except for the baby, the entire house was empty.

Hotch called a crime scene unit and they were soon at the house, combing through the bedroom. A neighbor had come to take care of Henry, so the crying had finally stopped. Hotch and Rossi were looking around the bedroom.

"Hotch, look at this." Rossi said.

Hotch turned around and saw Rossi standing by the bed holding a syringe. Hotch's head began to spin. It was just like Emily's apartment. His eyes settled on JJ's dresser, and that's when it clicked. He knew what he'd been missing.

"Dave, listen-" Hotch began.

"HOTCH!" Morgan yelled. He and Reid were outside the house looking at the grounds at the cars. Hotch went to the window that overlooked the driveway. Morgan and Reid were standing behind Will's car with the trunk open. Morgan was handling something inside while Reid looked up at the window. His eyes met Hotch's, and Hotch knew that whatever was down there wasn't good.

* * *

Emily thought that she might be losing her mind. Another day had passed since she woke up in her room after The Matchmaker's beating. It had been only a few hours since another guy had walked into her room expecting to spend his night having the time of his life. It had also been a few hours since the same guy walked out with a dislocated shoulder and a broken nose, cursing Emily and everything else he could think of. So far, nothing else had happened. Emily knew that punishment would come eventually. The Matchmaker couldn't risk losing his clients because of a troublesome woman. Though she knew that, she didn't think he would kill her. She'd seen it in his eyes the last time he'd beat her. He was a man that needed to be in charge, a man that needed to exert control over anyone that he could. He wasn't about to let a woman beat him at his own game. If he killed her now, she would win. He knew that, and she knew that. And that knowledge was what she held on to. The team would find her.

She heard the door to her room open, and immediately tensed for whatever was walking through. She looked up. It was Lars. He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room. They walked down the hallway and up the stairs, taking the same path to The Matchmaker's room. Lars knocked twice, opened the door and pushed her inside, making her fall to the floor. She heard him close the door behind her and she slowly straightened up. The Matchmaker was standing across the room, a smile on his face.

"Oh Emily." He sighed. "I was so hoping that things wouldn't come to this, but you've given me no choice."

Emily's heart rate sped up. Had she been wrong? Was he going to kill her now?

"You see, Emily, you have become a problem around here. I needed to do something to keep you in line. Provide an…incentive…I guess you could call it." Emily wasn't sure where he was going with this. She watched him raise a walkie talkie to his mouth. "Bring her in." he ordered.

Lars forced Emily to move away from the door and turned her around so that she was facing it. The door opened and yet another huge guy walked in, pulling someone behind him. Emily took in the woman's stature, the blonde hair, the handcuffed wrists, the gagged mouth and finally, her eyes, filled with both fear and anger. The eyes widened as she saw Emily.

Emily gasped. "JJ."


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, I really appreciate it!

* * *

Hotch and the rest of the team, minus Emily and JJ, were sitting in the briefing room. When they'd gotten back from JJ's house, Strauss had been at her office door, waiting for them. She'd demanded to see the team in the briefing room. And so here they were, waiting for her to show up. Tensions were high as they always were when Erin Strauss was involved with anything. It was no secret that Strauss and this particular BAU team didn't get along. Looking around the room, Hotch saw his own feelings reflected on the faces of his colleagues. They had better things to do than sit around waiting for their boss. Before Hotch could think anything else, the door slammed open and Strauss breezed in.

"Agent Hotchner, what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Hotch raised his eyebrows. He hadn't even said anything yet. "Ma'am?" he asked.

"I gave you time to investigate Agent Prentiss' disappearance. And though I respect the position you are in, I expect that you should be back on the job. I have come to understand that the briefing time for your team is at ten o'clock, yet at that time, none of you were present. How exactly do you explain that?" Strauss practically yelled.

"Ma'am, Agent Jareau has gone missing as well."

The news visibly shook Strauss. "And why am I just now finding out about it?" she asked.

"We just found out ourselves. JJ didn't report to work this morning, and when we failed to reach her on any of her phones, we grew concerned and decided to make sure she was okay." Hotch explained, trying to keep his anger in check.

"And? Obviously you didn't find her. So what happened?" Strauss barked.

Hotch noticed Morgan shift slightly in his seat. Strauss and JJ's relationship was strained, to say the least, but Strauss' tone was so cold that you would think that JJ had killed Strauss' husband. Hotch felt his own anger level rise and he fought to keep his voice even.

"When we arrived at JJ's home, neither she nor Will appeared to be there. Her child, Henry, was upstairs crying. There was no sign of either of them. We found a syringe in the main bedroom that we've already sent to the lab. At that point, Agent Morgan called me downstairs to the driveway where he was searching the vehicles that were parked there. In the trunk of one of the cars, we found Detective Will LaMontagne, JJ's husband. He was bound, gagged, and unconscious. He'd been hit in the head with some kind of blunt object and then stuffed in the trunk of his own car. He was airlifted to the local hospital, and we are waiting for news on his condition." Hotch paused to take a breath, and Strauss jumped in.

"And what about Agent Jareau?" she asked.

"It is our belief," Hotch said, looking at his team members, "that JJ has been kidnapped by the same person who kidnapped Emily." Hotch noted Strauss' look of surprise, as well as that of his team members. It was out of loyalty, he knew, that they didn't question him in front of their boss. He hadn't yet gotten a chance to tell them what he'd figured out, and he knew that they, more than almost anyone, deserved answers. He continued speaking.

"We found a syringe in JJ's bedroom that is identical to the one found in Emily's apartment. Like I said, we sent it to the lab for testing, but I think that they will find traces of ketamine in the syringe."

"Agent Hotchner, I hope that you have done this job long enough to realize that a syringe is not enough to link a pair of crimes." Strauss reprimanded.

"I do." Hotch asserted. "I also noticed another similarity between the two crime scenes." He grabbed the remote off the middle of the table and pressed a button, causing a photo of Emily's bedroom to flash up on the screen. "While I was looking through Agent Prentiss' apartment, I profiled it as being extremely organized, nothing out of its place, which matched her personality as we know it. At first, I didn't think anything was off, but when I looked back through the crime scene photos, I got a sense that I was missing something." He pressed another button, and a picture of JJ's bedroom popped up next to the other picture on the screen. "When I looked in JJ's room, I realized what I had missed. On the small table next to Emily's bed was an empty picture frame. This didn't fit in with the profile. All of the other frames in the house were neatly filled with pictures. On JJ's dresser, there was another empty frame. Whoever took them took these pictures. We don't know why, but it's the first link we've gotten."

"Pictures, Agent Hotchner? You're basing your profile off of pictures?" Strauss asked skeptically. "I don't mean to sound callous, but if that's all you have, I don't think you're any closer to finding your kidnapper."

"With all due respect, I think you're wrong." Hotch countered. "Emily lived alone, and we profiled that this was a man, of whom we have a picture, albeit with no identification, who targeted Emily because she lived alone. Now, we know that this is not true. We know that he is capable of breaking into a home undetected, suggesting that he is not an amateur. He'll have a record that supports that theory. He was able to overpower Detective La Montagne, which suggests physical strength. Yet, even though he incapacitated him, he didn't kill JJ's husband, or her son. This suggests that he is reluctant to kill. It's possible that he never has killed anyone before. It's also likely that someone close to him, either a relative or close friend was killed during the course of a crime. He has felt that pain, and doesn't want to cause that kind of pain for anyone else. Again, this suggests that at the very least, he is not a sociopath. He can feel pain, and he wants to avoid that." Hotch concluded, looking Strauss in the eye.

"Well Agent Hotchner, you've convinced me." Strauss admitted after a short pause. "You may now work this case as an official BAU case. Be sure to file the proper paperwork, and do your job." With that, she walked out of the room.

The team was silent for only a moment before Hotch spoke.

"Garcia, we need you now." He said, looking at the analyst. "I need you to search files for any unsolved kidnappings where there was a report of the use of ketamine, or missing photos from the victims' homes. Eliminate any cases where the victims' families were killed. Let me know what you find as soon as you have anything." Garcia nodded and hurried out of the room. "Reid and Rossi, I want you to go down to the hospital and see if Will has woken up yet. If he has, talk to him and find out what he remembers. Also, call the neighbor that took Henry and check on him. Morgan, you and I will start going through files as soon as Garcia has them for us. Right now, I want you to go back to JJ's house and finish processing the crime scene." Hotch looked at his team one last time.

"We will find them."


	10. Chapter 10

Here's the next chapter. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee that the next update will be so soon. As always, please review!

* * *

"Oh my God, JJ." Emily moaned. She rushed over to her friend who was still struggling against the grasp of the thug holding her arm. She pulled JJ away from him and pulled the gag out of her mouth. JJ coughed. "Are you okay?" Emily asked quietly.

JJ nodded. "Yeah." She didn't get a chance to say anything else before Lars grabbed Emily and pulled her away. She stumbled, but didn't fall. JJ was left standing alone, completely vulnerable. Her eyes never left Emily's.

The Matchmaker surveyed the scene. It was playing out just as he had planned it. "You see, JJ…can I call you JJ?"

"No." JJ said defiantly.

The Matchmaker laughed. "You sound like Emily, always the troublemaker. This, in fact, is why you're here. You see, Emily has been most unwilling to cooperate with me. She's cost me some valuable clients, and I simply couldn't tolerate it anymore. I thought you might provide a nice…_incentive_ for her to improve her behavior." The Matchmaker paused, reveling in the look of shock that passed from JJ to Emily and back again.

"You can't be serious." Emily said, fixing her eyes on The Matchmaker's annoyingly smug face. She saw him nod slightly and before she could turn around, she heard a thud and JJ's moan of pain. Turning, she saw that her friend was lying on the floor.

"You can see that I am entirely serious." The Matchmaker said. "Now, unfortunately, JJ, we don't have any available rooms at the moment, so you'll be sharing with Emily for a few days or so."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief, but hoped it didn't show on her face. JJ had managed to get up from the floor, but her lip was bleeding profusely and she looked a little dazed. Emily felt Lars grab her arm again, and, as JJ was shoved out of the room, she was dragged along as well.

They reached her room and JJ's handcuffs were finally removed, the door was closed. Emily helped JJ to the bed and dashed into the bathroom. She reemerged with a damp towel that she dabbed on JJ's lip. For a few minutes, neither woman spoke. It was JJ who broke the silence.

"What do you think they did to Henry? And Will? Oh my God Emily. Why is this happening? What is going on?" JJ sobbed. Emily gently wrapped her arms around JJ's small body and tried to calm her down.

"Jayje, I'm sure they're fine. He had no reason to hurt either of them." Emily soothed. After a bit, JJ calmed down.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I haven't figured that out yet." Emily said.

"Are you okay?" JJ had yet to take in the extent of her friend's appearance, but now that she did, she could see the bruises that dotted her face, arms, and legs. They were all different colors, which JJ knew meant that they hadn't all been made at the same time. Emily was being beaten. "What did they do to you?"

Emily took a breath. "JJ, I'm so sorry. I never thought he would do something like this."

"Who, Emily? Who is doing this?"

"The guy in the room upstairs calls himself The Matchmaker."

JJ could tell that Emily was holding something back. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"JJ, he's running a high end, modern day brothel." Emily finally said. "There are women here from all over the country. That's how he's staying undetected."

JJ was quiet again. She'd never heard her friend sound so hopeless. Then she asked, "Emily, did they rape you?"

"No!" Emily practically yelled. She reigned in her emotions and spoke again. "They've tried though. That's what he was talking about earlier, the 'clients' he's lost. That's why he's brought you here. If I don't do what he says, he'll hurt you. And I'm sure he'll say the same thing to you."

"Oh, Emily. What are we going to do?"

"JJ, we're going to get out of this, I can promise you that." Emily assured her. "We are two highly trained FBI agents. We can take whatever they dish at us." Emily flexed her bicep and made a face, making JJ laugh softly despite the circumstances. As the laughter subsided, Emily spoke again. "JJ, they'll give you a three day 'solitary period'. You'll be by yourself in the room. After that, you'll have a tour, and they'll start making you do things. Or at least, they'll start trying to make you do things. JJ, I need you to promise me something. Don't worry about me, okay? I want you to look out for yourself. Don't give in to them; I don't care what they do to me. No matter what happens, you're the one that has a family to go home to." Emily said quietly.

"Emily, I can't do that. I can't let them hurt you and know that it's because of me." JJ insisted. Before Emily could say anything else, the door to the room burst open, and Lars walked in.

"You're in luck. A room opened up sooner than expected." He grinned. "Let's go."

Emily squeezed JJ's hand. "Remember what I said."

JJ put on her "press face" and stood up, walking to the door. Emily followed, stopping a few feet away. "Remember, please." Was the last thing she got a chance to say before the door closed in her face and her friend disappeared.

* * *

Back at the BAU office, the team had reconvened. Will had woken up, but unfortunately, he'd been knocked out before he saw anything. He was going to be fine, but he'd have to stay in the hospital for a day for observation. Rossi and Reid had told him about JJ, and Will had pledged the help of several local police departments, all of which seemed to owe him a favor. Rossi had politely declined, but promised to keep him in the loop. Reid had called the neighbor that was taking care of Henry, and she said that she would take him to the hospital to see Will, and that Henry could spend the night at her house. Morgan had gone to JJ's place, put returned empty-handed. There weren't any street cameras near her house, and the crime scene techs hadn't lifted any unknown prints so far. Garcia was their last hope.

"What have you got, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"Besides amazingly mad computer hacking skills and a deep unrequited crush of one of the BAU's finest?"

Hotch grimaced. "Yes Garcia, besides those."

"Well, Boss man, I have a lot. I searched the state database for kidnappings with the criteria you gave me. I got one hit, dating back three years ago."

"Three years?" Rossi clarified. "That's a long time. Is it related?"

"Well," Garcia answered, "I didn't think so. Thinking that since this guy must be a pro, I figured that he must have done this before. I extended the search to surrounding states and got a few more hits. And this is where it gets hinky. On a whim, I entered the criteria into the national database. I searched for kidnappings involving ketamine and missing photos where none of the family members were killed."

"And? What did you get Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

"A lot."

"What do you mean by a lot, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"I mean that I found almost a hundred cases matching those criteria. None of them are closed."

"A hundred?" Reid repeated. "That's excessive."

"Yes, thank you Captain Smartypants, even I figured that out myself." Garcia said. "It gets worse. The hundred cases are spread out all over the country, dating back four years. And they're almost even spread out between each state."

"Meaning?" Hotch said.

"Meaning, sir, that this creepo has been taking women for the last four years. Sir, women matching these criteria have disappeared from each state in the country, including Hawaii and Alaska. But they don't disappear at the same time. For example, Tara Donaldson disappeared from Alabama four years ago. She's the first woman to disappear, as far as I can tell. The next woman from Alabama didn't disappear until two years ago. It's the same in each of the states. The disappearances are always at least two years apart. And no bodies have been found. I'm uploading the photos to the briefing room now." One by one, photo after photo popped up on the screen and stayed there for a few seconds before they disappeared. All of the women were extremely beautiful.

"So this Unsub is traveling around the country kidnapping women. He's using non-lethal methods, which we've already profiled. But we still don't know who he is."

"Hotch, I think there's something we're not saying." Morgan insisted. "Look at the women he's taking. They're all beautiful women. I think we're looking at an Unsub with a sexual motive."

The room immediately became tense. No one wanted to think about JJ and Emily being in the hands of an Unsub like that. But still, it was a valid option.

"Morgan's right. We need to run down lists of sexual predators with the means of doing all of this. Anyone who travels that much has to have a good amount of cash available to them."

"Sir, there's something else." Garcia interrupted. "We don't need to run down the list of sex offenders. We have a picture of the kidnapper. It was just like at Emily's apartment. His picture was captured on a street camera in Washington as he left one of the crime scenes. He was carrying the same duffel bag he used with Emily. I've got his picture running through any and all facial recognition software I can find, but I don't have an ID yet." Garcia explained.

Hotch nodded to himself. "Okay, Garcia. Work fast. Let us know when you have something." He hung up and turned to his team. This was their first break.


	11. Chapter 11

I am so, so sorry that this took so long to post. I just moved, so the last two weeks have been insane. Anyway, thanks for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

That night, neither JJ nor Emily slept. Though they didn't know it, they both stayed up, Emily pacing, JJ sitting on her bed. JJ had snooped through the drawers in her room and found similar clothing to what Emily had found in hers. Disgusted, she'd sunk down on her bed and let herself cry. She cried for Henry and Will, whose fates she didn't know. She cried for Emily, who had been through so much the last few weeks. She cried for all the other women who were being kept here against their will, and the women who'd disappeared from this place without a trace. Finally, she let herself cry for herself. She let the emotions overtake her, the fear and the anger overwhelmed her and she sobbed for nearly an hour. As she calmed down, she started to feel better. Now that she and Emily were together, they would figure out how to get out of this. That was her mantra as she sat on her bed that night. She and Emily would be okay.

* * *

Emily kept repeating similar things to herself as she wore down the floor in her room. She was preparing herself for the worst possible outcome though she refused to believe that JJ would die. To Emily, the worst possible scenario was also one of the best. Emily would let The Matchmaker do whatever he wanted to her. Rape her, beat her, kill her, whatever he wanted. JJ would fight off anyone who tried to do the same to her. JJ would get out of here. She had a son and husband to go home to. Emily wasn't a stranger to being beaten. She'd grown up with it, experienced it on the job, dealt with it in the past few weeks. She wasn't scared of pain. Pain would eventually go away. What she couldn't deal with was the possibility that JJ wouldn't make it.

* * *

The Matchmaker sat in his suite, thinking about everything that had happened that night. Emily's reaction was priceless, and he wished he'd thought to get it on video. Emily. His thoughts kept going back to her. She was mortified that her friend was going to have to suffer alongside her. He laughed to himself. It was so strange, he'd never felt this way before. Hell, he hadn't even had sex with her yet, and he was pretty sure he was in love. She loved him too, he knew it. He also knew that she was probably having a hard time dealing with her feelings, and that's why she pretended to hate him. She didn't mean the things she said to him, he knew that. Deep down, Emily loved him. And he loved her. It was the perfect match. A new thought occurred to him. The perfect match called for a celebration! He would throw a party tomorrow night. All of his clients would come, and his women would look beautiful. If they were lucky, they'd find some matches of their own. And he would show Emily just how much he loved her.

* * *

"Sir, Sir, wake up! I've found him, Sir!" Garcia yelled, running through the bullpen of the BAU to the conference room, laptop in hand. As she passed their desks, Morgan and Reid both jumped up and ran after her. Hotch had been slumped over his desk, asleep for the first time in days, but he too stood and followed his agents. Rossi did the same when they passed his office. To the other agents in the area, it was a comical scene. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Reid, all following the screaming Garcia at a run. They reached the conference room, and Garcia set about hooking her laptop up to the screen.

"Okay." She began, sounding slightly out of breath. "I ran our photo through the DMV records. All of them, every state. It took forever, and I was beginning to think that we would be too late, but huzzah! I found him!" With a click of her mouse, a photo popped up on the screen. "His name is Maxwell Westbrook." Getting no response, she continued. "You know, of the billionaire family the Westbrooks? That practically invented the first encryption software? Hello?" She still got no reaction, other than Hotch shooting her a look that told her that she'd better get on with it. "Anyway, not important. So, I ran a background check on Mr. Max, and found that he'd been arrested. Only once, which I found strange, but there you go." Another click of the mouse, and a mug shot appeared.

"What was he arrested for?" Morgan asked.

"Aha! You would be the one to ask my scrumptiously sculptured friend. He was arrested for soliciting a prostitute. And not just any street corner girl, one of the high end ones that specialize in discretion."

"So how did he get caught?" Hotch asked.

"Well, it's an interesting story, actually. He had a fancy schmancy hotel room that he was living in. You know, one of those huge hotels that cost tons of money and always seem to have a concierge with a pole up his you know where? Yeah, one of those. Anyway, apparently Westbrook and the concierge of this particular hotel had butted heads a few times over small things, but the concierge had finally had enough, so when he saw the prostitute head up the elevator, he called the cops. Boom boom pow, Westbrook finds himself in prison for a year."

"A year?" Rossi questioned. "Why a year? That seems extreme."

"I'm so glad you asked ma petit profiler man. Westbrook was loaded, and he was one of those guys who thinks that money can buy him out of anything. When his parents died, they left him a fortune. Apparently, Westbrook offered the judge a good chunk of that fortune if the judge would throw out the case. Well, that didn't go over well with our judge, who, instead of reporting the bribe, decided to make an example out of Ole' Maxie."

"It all fits." Morgan said.

"Yes. He has a history of sexual crimes, and he certainly has the means of traveling and transporting women from one place to another. Garcia, how did his parents die?" Rossi asked.

"Sad story really. They were at a charity function one night, when Mrs. Westbrook started feeling sick, so they went home. What they didn't realize that there was a gang of thieves burglarizing their house. The Westbrooks walked in and surprised them, and the burglars killed them. Maxwell was upstairs when it happened. Apparently, he found the bodies the next morning. He was thirteen." Garcia concluded.

Hotch spoke up. "Great work, Garcia. This sounds like he could be our guy. Everything fits. He's reluctant to kill, has the means to do this, and he has a history. Do you have an address?"

"You have to ask?" she grinned, handing him a slip of paper.

Glancing at it, Hotch noticed that the address was in Missouri. He looked at his team. "I'll call for the jet. We're leaving within the hour."


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Here's the next chapter, much faster than the last one. And I'm about to go out of town, so I'm not sure when the next one will be posted. But thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate it!

* * *

Emily woke up suddenly. Instinctively, she looked at her nightstand, mentally kicking herself as she was reminded that there was no clock in her new room. She sat up slowly, wondering how she had managed to fall asleep after everything that had happened the night before. She'd paced her room for hours, thinking about JJ. Apparently, she'd fallen asleep at some point. The one hope she was carrying was that the team would find them within the next three days. That was JJ's solitary period, so she shouldn't be in danger until after that. That was when she saw it. Hanging on the outside of her closet was a black dress, so unlike anything Emily would ever wear it was almost comical. There was a note attached, along with a small timer that appeared to be counting backwards.

"Dear Emily,

We're having a party tonight to celebrate the most perfect match I've ever made. I've provided this dress so that you don't have to worry about what to wear. I've realized that if I leave it up to you, you would show up in sweatpants. The evening starts when your timer hits zero, so be dressed and ready to go in your room at that time. You will be escorted to the party from there.

Matchmaker"

Emily looked at the dress and sighed. It was low cut in both the front and back, and looked as though it wouldn't even reach her knees. For a moment, she pictured the Matchmaker's reaction if she actually showed up wearing her old sweatshirt, and she legitimately considered doing it just to piss him off. Then she remembered that JJ was at his disposal, and Emily wasn't willing to risk that. She looked at the timer. She had ten hours to go.

* * *

JJ had already read her note. She practically had it memorized.

"Dear JJ,

We're having a party tonight to celebrate the most perfect match I've ever made. I know that you haven't had time to adjust to being here, so I've provided this dress for you so that you don't have to worry about what to wear. The party starts when your timer hits zero, so be dressed and ready to go in your room at that time. You will be escorted to the party from there.

Matchmaker"

JJ only had nine and a half hours until the party. She sighed. She missed Henry and Will. She wanted to go home.

* * *

Unbeknownst to JJ and Emily, the team landed in Missouri three hours later. They rushed into the local precinct and quickly set up in the back room they were provided. Garcia unloaded laptop after laptop so that she could run down any and all information about Maxwell Westbrook. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much they could do on the plane. Now that they had landed, Hotch and Rossi went to go contact a judge about getting a search warrant for Maxwell Westbrook's residence. That left Morgan and Reid to work on a geographical profile.

"I don't know how well this is going to work. Normally, this is narrowed down to a city sized grid, not the entire country. I mean, Morgan, we don't even know if he's keeping the women in Missouri. That wouldn't be smart, just in case the police ever did catch on. Missouri is the first place they'd look." Reid lamented.

"Yeah, but Reid, this guy is arrogant. He doesn't care about being seen on traffic cameras or even being seen by anyone else. He's been abducting women for years, and he's gotten away with it. Until now. That kind of success gives a man a false sense of security. I don't think he'd care about the police finding him in Missouri." Morgan reasoned, sticking yet another pin into the map.

"Yeah, but still. Morgan, we're talking an entire state to search here. How -" Reid was interrupted by Garcia, who started yelling.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, oh my God. Gorgeous, Genius, come over here! You need to see this." Morgan and Reid ran to where Garcia was sitting. She had what looked like a security video pulled up on one of her computers. There were planes in the background.

"Baby girl, what are we looking at?" Morgan asked.

"Okay, so on a whim, I decided to see if we could find our guy on any airport security cameras. He wouldn't be able to transport a body through a regular plane, but he has the money to get a private jet. So anyway, I pulled up the security cameras from airports that serviced private jets. I focused on the small ones because I figured he wouldn't want to be seen."

Morgan and Reid shared a glance, but didn't say anything.

"So, I'm looking through security footage, and what do I see but our very own Maxwell Westbrook exiting his very own private jet at a small private airport in Kansas City."

"Baby Girl, you are amazing." Morgan declared.

"Yes, I know. There's more. I then concentrated on this one airport, and saw something else." She hit a few buttons, and a new video popped up. A private plane was sitting in a hangar. A sleek black car entered the frame, driven by Westbrook himself. He got out, and almost simultaneously, a distinguished looking older man exited the plane. They greeted each other briefly, and Westbrook was handed a black briefcase. A third man went to Westbrook's car and bent over the back seat. When he emerged, he was carrying an apparently unconscious woman. Garcia flew into action, zooming in on the girl's face. It wasn't Emily or JJ, and they all breathed a little easier. The woman was carried onto the plane, and Westbrook drove off. Morgan directed Garcia to start facial recognition on the man from the plane.

Garcia, Morgan, and Reid were staring at the laptop when Hotch walked in. Reid spoke first.

"He's selling them, Hotch. That's why no bodies have been found. We just saw him put a girl on a plane. It wasn't Emily or JJ. Garcia's trying to figure out who it was."

"No, Garcia knows who it was." She interrupted. "Morgan Dunway. She disappeared from Idaho over a year ago."

"What about the man on the plane?" Hotch asked.

"O fearless leader, I haven't had time to do that yet. But you will know when I do." Garcia said, her fingers a blur as they flew across the keyboard.

"Okay, Garcia, you stay here and keep looking. You said the airport was in Kansas City? Then that's where we're going. That's where Westbrook's house is too. Morgan, Reid, let's go. Dave's in the car already."

Three hours had passed since they'd landed. It would take four hours for them to get to Kansas City.

* * *

Emily had three hours until the party. Sighing, she rolled off her bed, deciding that she needed to make an effort for JJ's sake. She turned the water on in the shower and undressed. She took a minute to examine herself in the mirror. The bruises were fading, and some were mere yellowish spots on her body. Others still stood out. The swelling in her face had gone down substantially, and it looked almost normal. She stepped into the shower and let the hot water soothe the knots in her shoulders. She washed her hair, shaved her legs, and turned off the water an hour later, feeling refreshed. The hot water had relaxed her, and she'd almost fallen asleep again. Drying off, she glanced at her timer. Two hours to go.

* * *

JJ was thinking about Will as she got dressed. She wished she was with him, instead of in the hands of some loser who likes sex a lot. She was confident though. After she'd let herself cry last night, she'd felt much better. She was a trained FBI agent. She could take down anyone that tried to hurt her. Or Emily. JJ worried about her. The way Emily was talking last night made it sound like Emily would sacrifice herself for JJ's well being. JJ had no doubt that she would, and she didn't think she could live with herself if Emily got hurt. So, she obediently pulled on her dress, and did her hair and makeup. As her timer wound down to five minutes, she surveyed herself in the mirror. The black dress was short, with only two straps that tied around her neck that attached to the center of the top of the dress. She slipped on a pair of strappy heels that she found in her closet, and straightened up as she heard a knock at the door. Her time was up.

* * *

The male members of the team arrived at the local precinct in Kansas City only three and a half hours after they left, thanks to Hotch's blatant disregard for speed limits. They searched Westbrook's home, but only found a few porn magazines and videos. For such a rich man, he lived in a dump. There was no way he could keep numerous women here at once.

Despondent but not hopeless, they'd gone back to the station hoping that Garcia would call with news. She didn't. Frustrated, Morgan, Reid, Rossi, and Hotch sat around a small conference table reviewing everything they knew and guessed about Maxwell Westbrook.

"He would need somewhere big." Morgan insisted. "If he's keeping multiple women in one place for long periods of time, it has to be big. And secluded."

"We don't know if they're all in one place." Rossi argued. "He shipped one off, so he obviously has different people he deals with. Maybe he's got other places he sends them." Morgan's phone rang, and he pressed the speakerphone button.

"What have you got gorgeous?"

"Okay, so I got a name to go with the guy from our plane. He's a German dude, by the name of Horst Dunderhoff. Interpol has him flagged for arms dealing, but he's never actually been caught."

"Thanks, Garcia." Hotch said. "So, he's shipping them out of the country. That means that he's probably keeping them in the US for awhile. I think we should concentrate on that for now."

"Yeah, but where?" Morgan asked, rubbing his brow. "We're talking about an entire country here. It's not like we can do a door to door search."

Reid suddenly sat up straighter. He had that look on his face, the one where the team knew that he had figured something out.

"What is it Reid?" Hotch asked.

"Westbrook was busted in a hotel, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Morgan asked. "Where are you going with this kid?"

"Okay, stay with me here. Statistically, a person is more likely to get caught being with a prostitute than getting away with it. Westbrook would have realized that, and he probably would have realized that if he offered a safe place for men to meet with prostitutes, he could make a lot of money." Reid finished.

"Are you saying he's running a brothel?" Rossi asked.

"I don't know for sure. I'm just saying that it makes sense." Reid backtracked.

"I think you're on to something." Rossi continued. "What if he is running a brothel? He offers a place for men to meet with prostitutes, unobserved. I could buy that. But where does he keep them?"

"What if he keeps them at a hotel?" Hotch threw out. "That's obviously where he preferred to be with them."

"But wouldn't you think that someone would notice a group of missing women running around a hotel?" Morgan asked.

"Good point. But I think we've got something here." Hotch insisted, speed dialing Garcia.

"Sir?" she answered.

"Garcia, look up all the hotels in Kansas City."

"That's a lot of hotels."

"Eliminate any motels. He wouldn't keep them at a low class joint. Narrow the list down to four and five star places."

"We've still got a lot. I need more."

"How many are in rural areas? Away from highways and main roads?"

"Only a few."

"What can you find out about them?"

Garcia was silent as they heard the clacking of her keyboard. "Okay, I've got it! I found it! There's a five star resort about three miles from the nearest road. Apparently, it was an old hotel that went bankrupt. Some investor bought it and has been fixing it up. It's still closed for repairs."

"Who was the investor?"

"A guy named Steven Donaldson. But I can't find anything on him; I'm positive that it's an alias. He bought it almost four years ago. Right after Maxwell Westbrook was released from prison." Garcia spoke quickly, giving them the address.

"Thanks Garcia!" Morgan yelled as they all raced out of the room. Local cops followed, and Garcia was left speaking to herself.

"Bring them home guys."

* * *

Emily's timer was at five minutes. JJ had left almost a half hour earlier, but Emily didn't know that. She was busy trying to make her dress cover more of herself. It was short, falling just above her knees. It was a halter style dress, and the front dipped so low, she wished she had double stick tape to keep it in place. Wearing a pair of black stilettos, she thought that she could at least stab someone with them if it came to that. With one final glance, she heard the telltale knock and the door opened. Taking a deep breath, Emily followed Lars out of her room.

They walked down the long hallway, and Emily heard music coming from by the pool. Expecting to turn there, she was surprised when Lars walked right by it without stopping. Emily stared. There were close to fifty young women, all dressed in different black dresses. There were men there too, though none Emily recognized, having killed one and injured the other that came to her room. She scanned the crowd for JJ, becoming apprehensive when she didn't see her familiar blond head. She had to stop looking when Lars pulled her arm, causing her to stumble. They walked up two flights of stairs, and down another hallway. Emily's heart was beating fast, even considering the situation. Why wasn't she at the party? Instead, she was standing at the Matchmaker's room. Lars knocked and entered, pulling Emily with him.

And Emily knew she was in trouble.


	13. Chapter 13

Here's the next chapter, please review!

* * *

The first thing Emily saw was JJ. She was sitting in a chair with her arms twisted behind her back where they were presumably cuffed together. She looked okay, physically anyway, though her face was filled with anger and fear. Emily looked past her to the Matchmaker, who was standing behind her, a blossoming black eye forming around his left eye. She glanced back at JJ, who actually managed a small smile. Ignoring his injury, the Matchmaker spoke.

"Emily, I'm so glad you could make it." He said, walking closer to her.

"It's really not like I had much choice." Emily replied calmly, standing her ground.

The Matchmaker stopped right in front of her. "Even so." He whispered, running the back of his hand across her cheek softly. Emily's instinct was to bat his hand away, and she almost did, before remembering that JJ was here too. But when the Matchmaker's face moved closer to hers and his lips smashed against hers, Emily couldn't resist. Pulling away, she raised her knee between his legs, but he was expecting that and he blocked her. He grabbed both of her wrists and threw her to the floor. Emily hit her head hard, and she was a bit dazed. When she opened her eyes, she had to fight to keep her face blank. The Matchmaker was no longer standing over her; he was behind JJ again, holding a gleaming hunting knife to her neck. JJ was trying to stay calm. She knew that if the Matchmaker killed her, he wouldn't have any way of controlling Emily. But still, that didn't stop her from noticing the pain as he pressed the knife to her neck. It was deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to do any damage. Emily got to her feet and stood tentatively where she was, not wanting to provoke him any further. Seeing this, the Matchmaker spoke again.

"Very good." He dropped the knife, and both Emily and JJ let out a sigh of relief. "Now, Emily. Go lie down on the bed. I think you'll find it most comfortable." He softly commanded.

Emily looked at the bed, noticing something she hadn't yet seen. Hanging from each of the bedposts was a thin chain with a single handcuff at the end. She knew what that meant. So did everyone else in the room. Pausing for only a second to glance at JJ, who was fervently shaking her head from side to side telling her not to give in, Emily slowly walked to the bed and sat down.

The Matchmaker was very pleased. This was perfect. He set the hunting knife on the desk behind him and walked to the bed. Gently pushing on Emily's shoulders, he forced her to lie flat on the bed. He grabbed one wrist at a time, and chained them to the bedposts. When he reached for her right foot, she placed a well aimed kick at the center of his face. She felt her foot collide with bone and the Matchmaker went flying. After a few seconds, he regained his composure and looked at Emily, then at JJ. JJ's chest was heaving as her heart raced, waiting for him to pick up the knife again. Emily looked at her apologetically, and tried to pull her arms free. The cuffs weren't budging.

The Matchmaker was far from angry. Rubbing his jaw, he smiled at Emily as if to tell her that he would forgive her this time. Indeed, he stayed away from JJ, walking back to the bed. He knew, and Emily knew that she could kick him again if she wanted to. And they both knew that she wanted to. He nodded to Lars instead, who proceeded to pick up the hunting knife and hold it to JJ's throat. The Matchmaker went to grab Emily's ankle again, and this time, she didn't resist. Less than a minute later, Emily was sprawled out on the bed, her limbs stretched out and chained to each corner of the bed. She looked like her body was making a giant X.

The Matchmaker admired his handiwork. Looking at Lars, he said, "You may take JJ to the party." Lars produced a small key and unlocked the handcuffs holding JJ to the chair. Grabbing her upper arm, he pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room. She looked over her shoulder at Emily, trying to apologize for everything at once. Emily managed a small smile that told JJ to be brave, that they would both be fine.

When the door to the room slammed shut, Emily realized that the room was completely silent. She couldn't hear the party at all. "Soundproofing." She thought. Chances were, if she couldn't hear them, they wouldn't hear her. Damn. She looked up at the Matchmaker who was standing at the foot of the bed, gazing down at her. Their eyes met, and he spoke first.

"I told you we were having a party to celebrate the most perfect match I've ever made. It's you Emily. You and me. From the time I saw you outside your apartment, I knew that you were special. The first time we met face to face, you had so much fire in your eyes that I knew that you were different. You probably think that I'm a monster because I do all this. You don't see things like I do. I make matches for all the other men that want them. But I've been searching for years for the perfect match for me, and I've finally found you. You may not realize it Emily, but we're perfect for each other."

Emily, for once, was at a loss for words. The Matchmaker started walking toward her and when he reached the bed, he gently crawled on top of it. He caressed her cheek again, and then maneuvered himself so that he was kneeling on the bed, one knee on each side of her, straddling her. Emily willed herself to stay quiet, knowing that yelling would do no good. She pulled at her restraints again, hoping that by some miracle, they would break. They didn't. She could still feel the metal rings around her ankles and wrists cutting into her skin. That would leave a mark. Matchmaker grabbed her chin, and moved her face so that she was looking straight at him. He leaned his face down to hers, and kissed her again. His body was flat against hers, and she could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, as his tongue roamed the inside of her mouth. Emily wanted to get away from this, and she willed her brain to take her to a different place. Unfortunately for her, her compartmentalization skills didn't seem to be working at the moment. She knew that this was a flaw, she'd realized it with Cyrus, and she realized it again. After an event, she could pretend like it had never happened. During it, she remained very much there, experiencing every moment of pain.

She felt the Matchmaker sit up, and for a second, was hopeful that the night was over, that he wanted to take things slowly. This, sadly, was not the case. He still straddled her, still smiled down at her as he worked on unbuttoning his shirt. He went slowly, sliding one button at a time through the hole. When they were all undone, he eased his shirt off his shoulders, revealing a toned torso. He placed his hands on her wrists, and slowly ran them down the sides of her body. Emily involuntarily shivered as his hands moved down her waist to her legs. She wanted him to hurry up and get it over with. He smiled at her, reading her face.

"We've got all the time in the world." He said.

* * *

JJ was standing in the restaurant area, with all the other women that were being held in this place. There were men there too, but none that JJ recognized. She was worried about Emily. She'd seen the look on her face as she sat on the bed, thinking that she was protecting JJ when really, JJ was filled with guilt about what was happening. When they'd stopped outside the Matchmaker's suite, she'd been confused, the door had opened and she'd seen the bed. Even then, she thought that it was all meant for her. The Matchmaker grabbed her arm, and JJ's burly escort left the room.

"I need you to sit down." He said to her. When she refused, he grabbed her waist and dragged her to the chair at the back of the room. She'd managed to land one solid punch right below his eye. He'd let her go, and she bolted for the door, only to be caught by a cursing Matchmaker who produced a pair of handcuffs from nowhere. He'd managed to drag her, flailing limbs and all, to the chair where her hands were wrapped around it and cuffed in place. She looked at him, and couldn't resist smiling at the huge bruise that was already forming on his face. When Emily was brought in, JJ knew that things were going to get worse. She saw the anger in Emily's face, and she saw the determination to get both of them through this, no matter what. As JJ was led out of the room, part of her was relieved that she wasn't going to have to stay and watch what was going to happen. Another part of her felt terribly guilty about what was going to happen. Emily was her friend, and JJ should have been able to help her.

JJ was jerked out of her reverie as she was approached by a handsome man in an expensive suit. His hand cupped her waist and he asked for her name. Taking a breath and deciding that cooperation was the best course of action, she told him that her name was JJ. He whispered in her ear that she was beautiful, and his lips brushed her cheek. JJ closed her eyes and tried to block it all out: the location, the music, the man who now had both arms around her. It wouldn't go away. Opening her eyes again, she pulled away from the guy in front of her. He didn't like that. He tightened his hold around her waist and forced her to walk backwards until she felt the hard wall around the restaurant hit her back. He pressed his body into hers, his lips to the side of her neck that hadn't been cut. JJ looked past him, still trying to block everything out. She eyed the entrance to the building, a set of glass double doors, the only windows she'd ever seen in the place. A flash of motion outside caught her eye, and JJ thought she was seeing things. She was so desperate that she was hallucinating. A crash and a yell told her that she was not hallucinating, and that this was all very much real. Morgan and Hotch crashed through the doors.

"FBI!"


	14. Chapter 14

Hope this chapter was worth the wait, please review!

* * *

The first person Hotch focused on was JJ. She was at the back of the room, but he instantly identified her golden head. She was pressed up against a wall by some thug who was too intent on mauling her neck to notice that the FBI had just barged in to ruin the party. All around them, though, guns were being drawn by well dressed men. Shots were fired, whether from the local cops backing them up or the others, Hotch didn't know. The captive women were screaming and running for cover. Except for JJ. As the guy with her had turned to draw his own weapon, she grabbed his arm and managed to twist it behind his back. He was stronger, but she had the element of surprise on her side. He dropped his gun and wrenched his arm out of her grasp. He took a swing, but she ducked and connected her fist to his gut. He swung wildly again, and missed again, and she ducked under his arm so that she was behind him. She shoved him so hard that he hit the wall face first. Before he could turn around again, she grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, and the back of his head with the other and pulled his head back before banging it into the wall. She did that twice, and he fell to the ground unconscious. She grabbed his gun and fired at a guy who had his weapon pointed at Rossi's back. He fell with a yell. Around her, men were falling to the ground, and girls were screaming. She heard Hotch and Morgan yelling at the men to drop their weapons. They didn't, and the firefight continued.

On the other side of the fight, the FBI agents and the local cops were having their share of problems. They were outnumbered, and two of the locals had been wounded already. Rossi bent over one to check for a pulse, while simultaneously reloading his weapon. Morgan scanned the frantic crowd, looking for a clear shot and locked his eyes on a guy with his gun pointed at Rossi. Before Morgan fired a shot, the guy screamed and fell. Confused, Morgan looked around and saw JJ with her gun still pointed at the point where the man had fallen. He looked at the ground next to her and saw the unconscious form of the man that had been kissing her earlier. He couldn't suppress a small smile at the fact that JJ had taken down the bastard.

He caught her eye, and she pushed her way through the crowd to where they were standing, pausing only long enough to take off her heels and lob them at a fat man who was firing at everyone within reach. One of the shoes caught him in the side of the face and he dropped his weapon in surprise. He was promptly tackled by one of the locals.

Finally, JJ made it to where her colleagues were hunkered down, still firing when they had clear shots.

"Are you okay?" Hotch yelled. He saw the bruises on her face, and the raw circles on her wrists.

JJ ignored him. "We have to get to Emily." She said frantically. She turned as if to walk away, but Hotch grabbed her arm. She flinched, and he let go, realizing his mistake. She turned back and looked him straight in the eye. "I'm fine." She declared. This time, when she turned away, Hotch didn't stop her. Instead, he broke into a run, pushing through the crowd trying to keep up with JJ. He heard Morgan behind him, shoving guys down as he went. Rossi and Reid were presumably behind him. They made it through and followed JJ up a few flights of stairs. They raced to the end of the hall and stopped in front of the last door. Hotch gingerly tried to turn the handle, but found that the door was locked. They couldn't hear anything inside. Hotch moved away from the door and nodded to Morgan. This was his specialty.

* * *

The Matchmaker was on top of her, not bothering to support his weight. He wasn't a fat man, but he was certainly solid. Emily tried to retain some semblance of calm. He'd finished exploring her body with his hands, the bottom of her dress was somewhere around her waist, and apparently wanted to see how well her mouth worked. She'd tried concentrating on something besides the man on top of her, like counting. As a child, counting had calmed her down when she was in trouble. Now, it just drew attention to the fact that this would be a long ordeal. She was snapped out of her thoughts as she felt his hands, which had previously been behind her back, arching her body to his, traveled from there to the back of her neck where her dress was tied. Her heart raced as his fingers fumbled with the knot she'd tied earlier in the evening, anticipating this very moment. It was a complicated knot, one that Reid had decided was necessary to show her on a particularly slow paperwork day at the office. At the time, she'd feigned interest, but in the end, she'd found it useful.

After a few minutes of trying to untie her dress, the Matchmaker realized that he was getting nowhere. He rolled off of his precious Emily and walked to the nightstand. Emily watched him, a mild sense of fear building up. Though his pants were still on, they were unbuttoned and were sagging somewhat around his hips. Emily took the opportunity to, once again, pull at the chains holding her to the bed. They still wouldn't give, and all she had to show for her effort were a few thin trails of blood running down her arms where the cuffs had cut into her skin. The Matchmaker returned, holding a small knife. He nimbly climbed back onto the bed and straddled Emily again. He traced the blade of the knife from her forehead to her chin, not pressing hard enough to draw blood. He brought the knife down her neck and across her chest to one side of the dress and back up the back. Emily heard the sound of ripping material as he sliced the dress right by the knot she'd tied. Setting the knife on the table next to the bed, he bent over once again and kissed the love of his life.

A few minutes later, both Emily and the Matchmaker jumped as someone pounded on the door. For a moment, Emily's heart soared with relief, but that feeling was quickly dispelled when she heard Lars' voice.

"Open up, man! We've got big problems." He shouted.

The Matchmaker ignored him.

"Seriously, there are cops here! FBI!" Lars screamed.

The Matchmaker groaned and walked to the door, wrenching it open. Sounds of gunshots and screaming streamed into the room. Apparently, the soundproofing worked well. Lars pushed his way in.

"Everyone is in the middle of a firefight down there man. They're trying to take us down! What are we going to do?" Lars sounded more frightened than Emily expected from a man his size.

"Dammit, Lars, get down there and get rid of them." The Matchmaker ordered, shoving Lars out the door. He slammed it shut and turned back to Emily. "Now, where were we?" he asked softly.

She stared at him. "You should be worried about those guys down there. The FBI has taken down big places before." She told him.

"You don't need to worry about that, Emily darling. We're perfectly fine up here, no one will interrupt us." He pressed his mouth to hers again, and she bit his tongue. He sat up quickly and backhanded her left cheek. She was not deterred.

"Listen, asshole. The FBI will be up here before you know it. What you need to do is get out of here and run. I assume you have some kind of escape plan. Now is the time to use it." Emily instructed. If the team was here, they knew who he was. They could catch him again if he escaped. Chances were he wouldn't even make it out of the building.

The Matchmaker stared at her. She really did care about him. She wanted to make sure he was safe. Or maybe it was a trick. "Oh, Emily. You can't get rid of me that easily." He smiled. "But just in case…" he trailed off and walked to his desk where he pulled out a gun. He set it by the knife on the table and laid down next to Emily on the bed. He pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered, "I'm safe as long as I'm with you. They wouldn't risk the life of one of their own, now, would they?"

Emily's heart sank. She purposely hadn't told him that she was an FBI agent. He was going to use her as his bargaining chip, his way out of here. And as much as she wanted Hotch to take him down no matter what, she knew he wouldn't do it if Emily was going to get hurt.

"So now what?" she asked.

"Now we wait." He said. "And waiting can be fun." He rolled back on top of her and slid his hands down until they rested on the waistband of her underwear.


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry about the wait, hope you like the new chapter. Please review!

* * *

Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw the doorknob turn ever so slightly. The door was locked of course, but the fact that it was done so quietly made Emily hopeful that the person on the other side was there to help her. The Matchmaker was playing with her, running his fingers under the top of her underwear, making her heart race with fear and anxiety. Emily stared at the door, willing something to happen. For once in her life, she was completely helpless.

As if Emily had willed it, the door flew off its hinges and Morgan burst through, gun drawn. Hotch was right behind him, then Rossi and Reid, and finally, JJ. Emily saw that she'd gotten a gun from somewhere, and gained a new sense of hope. All the agents aimed their weapons at The Matchmaker who was still on top of Emily. He withdrew his hand and sat up slowly, his eyes locked on Emily's. She glared at him.

"It's over, Westbrook." Hotch said, his voice full of contempt. When his team had burst into the room, he had to stop himself from shooting the man then and there. But he had protocols to abide by. Still, the sight of Emily chained to the bed with the hem of her dress somewhere around her waist, bruises of varying shades all over her body and blood running down her arms made him want to forget the protocols.

Westbrook didn't move. Morgan wanted to tackle him or shoot him or something. Anything to get him off of Emily. "Come on, man. It's over." Morgan said. He still didn't budge. It was like he was waiting for something. "Listen, all your guys downstairs are gone. It's just you now."

"Is that so?" The voice came from behind them.

Emily's heart sank. It was Lars. He must have doubled back and hidden somewhere. Her team whirled around, but Lars already had his gun leveled. The Matchmaker was off her in a flash and Emily felt the cold barrel of his own gun at her head.

"Now." The Matchmaker said calmly. "I think you should put your weapons down. Now!" Hotch hesitated, then did as he was told and his team followed suit. Emily was looking at them now, willing them to come up with something that would get them all out of there safely. As far as she could tell, he hadn't come up with anything.

The Matchmaker smiled. "Hands up behind your head." He ordered. The team did so, shuffling slightly as Lars pushed past them and walked to where the Matchmaker was standing. He trained his weapon on Emily while The Matchmaker rummaged in the desk for something. No one said a word, though Morgan looked like he was about to burst. The Matchmaker returned with a small key and another set of handcuffs, which he set on the table.

He released one of Emily's wrists, the one nearest to him, but had to lean across the bed to release the other. Before he unlocked the chain, he lowered his head so that his mouth was at Emily's neck. He kissed her again, enjoying the audience.

Hotch couldn't take much more, and he knew his team couldn't either. He knew Westbrook was doing this on purpose, trying to bait them, trying to show them who was in charge. Even so, seeing Emily like this made him feel completely helpless. He couldn't protect his agent, and that killed him. His eyes met Emily's and he tried to read her. She rolled her eyes at him and Hotch felt an odd sense of relief at the fact that she still had some of her old self inside.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Westbrook unlocked her other wrist. Both of them were raw, bruised, and bloody. Westbrook slid his hand down her leg to her ankle, which he released without any games. Emily took the opportunity to tie the jagged edges of her dress behind her neck again. When the Matchmaker unlocked the last chain, he grabbed the handcuffs off the table and cuffed Emily's hands in front of her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled, but managed to regain her balance.

Hotch felt Morgan shift behind him, and the unit chief repositioned himself in front of the younger agent. The message was clear: Don't do it. Not yet.

Westbrook had Emily's arm in his grasp. He pulled her to the desk, where his gun was lying. He picked it up and held it loosely in his hand.

"Now" he said, "here's how things are going to play out. Lars, Emily and I are going to leave. You're not going to follow us. You're not going to try to stop us. We're going to leave, and Emily and I are going to be very happy together." Westbrook insisted.

Hotch took his cue. "Maxwell, do you really love Emily?" Hotch asked.

"Of course I do." Westbrook insisted.

"Then don't you think you should do what Emily wants?" Hotch continued.

"Of course. And I am. Emily wants to go away with me. We're very happy together."

"Then why is she wearing handcuffs?" Reid piped up. "It doesn't seem like she really wants to be with you. Why are you forcing her to do something she doesn't want?"

Westbrook glared at him. "Emily loves me." He insisted.

Hotch's eyes met Emily's. "Are you sure about that?" he asked.

Westbrook loosened his grip on Emily's arm. "Of course I'm sure." He said.

Rossi spoke up now. "Why don't you ask Emily what she wants?" he suggested.

Westbrook let go of Emily's arm completely and positioned himself in front of her. "I won't let you bother her with such absurd questions." He declared. "Emily loves me!"

With those words, Emily lunged for the Matchmaker's back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling the chain connecting the handcuffs tight against his neck. She pulled back as hard as she could, crushing his throat. Even in a weakened state, she was incredibly strong. Lars hadn't even managed to completely raise his gun before he was tackled by the combined forces of Morgan and Rossi. Lars didn't lose his grip on his gun, though Rossi was trying to wrestle it from him. JJ and Reid tried to get a clears shot, but the three were rolling around so much they were afraid they would shoot one of their own.

Hotch was trying to help Emily bring Westbrook down. Her arms still encircled his throat, and Hotch was trying to grab Westbrook's gun. Emily was running off pure adrenaline. She was exhausted and her body hurt all over. She really wanted to be curled up on her couch reading a good book while drinking a glass of red wine. But instead she was here, trying to strangle the man who would have gladly raped her.

Westbrook grunted and tried to get Emily off his back. He backed toward the wall and she crashed into it. She felt the wind leave her lungs, but she held on. Westbrook was becoming weaker, she could feel it. So could Hotch. Finally, he managed to wrestle the gun from Westbrook's grasp. On the other side of the room, Lars was unconscious, bleeding freely from a jagged wound in his head where Morgan had cracked it against the edge of the desk. Westbrook fell to his knees, and Emily finally let go of his neck.

Reid cuffed him, and everyone looked at Emily. Hotch found the keys to the handcuffs, and unlocked them. She rubbed her wrists gently and surveyed her saviors, her friends, her family. She knew Westbrook would serve life. She hoped Garcia could find out what happened to the other women he'd sent away. She knew she would have to go to therapy for awhile before she was cleared to go back to work. She also knew her friends would be there to help her through it. There was a lot of healing to be done, for her and JJ both. They wouldn't be alone.

She reached for JJ's hand and took it, squeezing slightly. Together, they walked out of the room. Reid walked next to JJ and Hotch next to Emily, being careful to keep a comfortable distance. Morgan dragged Lars' unconscious form behind them, and Rossi did the same with Westbrook. They made it down the stairs and into the main room where the firefight had finally ended. There were bodies everywhere, and sirens were screaming as the ambulances with the injured police officers pulled away. The other women from the compound were milling around the remaining ambulances, most crying, some talking on cell phones to their families.

Emily heard Hotch suggest she get checked out, but she shook her head. She wanted to go home. Rossi and Morgan shoved Lars and Westbrook into the arm of waiting locals and the team piled into an SUV and drove off, leaving the abandoned hotel behind them for good. They were going home.


	16. Chapter 16

Here's the last chapter! Thanks so much to all who read, reviewed, gave feedback, etc. I really appreciate it!

* * *

JJ was lying on the couch, Henry's head resting against her chest. She leaned back against Will, whose arm was around her. After she and Emily had been bandaged and given a clean bill of health, the team had driven back to the office, where JJ had found Will waiting for her with Henry. She'd been filled with such a sense of relief that she had to hold back tears as she went to him. Reid had assured her that both Will and Henry were okay, but JJ had refused to believe it until she'd seen them for herself. She'd taken Henry from him and allowed herself to be enveloped in Will's arms. He'd held back, other than hugging her, seeming to realize that she needed to readjust to life outside the compound. Still, JJ was comforted by the friendly, loving arms around her. They'd ridden home in silence, JJ turning around every few minutes to check on the now-sleeping Henry. When they'd gotten back to the house, Will had offered to make her something to eat, but JJ insisted she wasn't hungry. Instead, she asked him to sit with her for awhile, and he'd complied. Now, over an hour later, they were still sitting there.

"I was so scared." She whispered, knowing Will would hear her anyway.

"I know, JJ. I know. It's over now though, you're home, and no one can hurt you anymore." Will said softly, running his hand up and down her arm gently.

JJ started crying softly, and Will comforted her. JJ wasn't afraid to cry here, Will didn't see it as being weak. He often cried himself, and JJ found that it was a trait she loved about him. They talked for a few minutes more, and JJ fell silent again. She felt like she could sleep for hours on end, and knew that Will thought the same. Still, there was something keeping her awake.

"Will, I need to go." She said.

* * *

Emily was curled up on her couch, glass of wine in hand as she had envisioned only a few hours earlier. The TV was off, and the lights were dimmed. She'd taken another shower when she'd gotten home, being careful not to get the numerous bandages wet. Her body was sore, and every few minutes she flinched. Still, it felt good to shower knowing that no one was going to barge in. The shower was also her crying place, and only after the water was beating on her back did she allow herself to cry.

After she'd settled on the couch, she let her mind drift back to JJ and Will's reunion at the office. The sight of JJ being tentatively embraced by the man she loved, their small son between them was more rewarding than Emily could have imagined. Still, there was a part of her that was jealous of JJ. There was no one waiting at the office for Emily, no one to drive her home, though everyone on the team had offered. Garcia had been there, of course, and fussed over Emily. Though Emily appreciated the effort, she'd taken a cab instead; she needed to be alone. Sleep was pretty much out of the question, she knew. She was too wired to sleep, though the alcohol had helped calm her down. She got up to refill her glass, and there was a knock on the door. Emily jumped and dropped the wineglass, cursing Lars and his incessant knocks that had made her this jumpy. This was going to take some getting used to. Slowly, she made her way to the door, and peered through the peephole. It was JJ.

Emily opened the door slowly and let JJ in.

"Sorry it's so late." She started.

"No, it's fine." Emily insisted. "Do you want something to drink?"

JJ nodded, and Emily grabbed two more wineglasses off the rack, pouring a half glass for each of them. They walked to the couch and settled down.

"Does Will know you're here?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, he drove me. I'm supposed to call him to come pick me up." JJ answered.

"You didn't have to come check on me Jayje. I'm okay." Emily said softly.

"I know. But Em, I couldn't sleep. I just, I don't know. Part of me still feels like I'm going to wake up and still be in that horrible place." JJ explained.

Emily nodded her understanding and grasped JJ's hand. "That won't happen, Jayje. Trust me." Emily assured her.

"I do." JJ said.

The friends sat on the couch in silence for a few minutes more, before there was another knock. Emily's response was better masked this time, but JJ still saw it. JJ knew that as scared and used as she felt, Emily was feeling more than twice that. She'd been in that place for almost two weeks, and JJ could hardly stand two days. Still, JJ admired Emily as she stood and opened the door.

* * *

Scattered throughout the next hour, the entire BAU team had congregated in Emily's apartment. Garcia had been the first to arrive, clutching two copies of the picture the Matchmaker had stolen from each of their apartments.

"Pour me whatever you're drinking baby." She'd insisted, plopping herself on the couch between JJ and Emily. The three women had gotten tipsy on Emily's wine and found that Garcia's humor, as usual, had made them feel much better. Rossi was the next to arrive, claiming that he'd been in the neighborhood and seen Emily's light on. They didn't buy it though, as he didn't seem to be surprised to see JJ. Will admitted later that Rossi had called to check on JJ first, and been told that she was at Emily's apartment.

Not ten minutes later, Reid had shown up, and gotten a laugh as he appeared to be in his pajamas. He claimed that he'd been sleepwalking from his place, which was close to Emily's, but again, the excuse was flimsy. After only one drink he'd admitted that he had had every intention of going to bed, but found himself driving to Emily's instead. Morgan came next, holding a couple of six packs, which was good, as Emily, JJ, and Garcia had demolished the red wine already. By the time Hotch got there, everyone was expecting him, and Emily had actually left the door unlocked.

Glancing around the room at her teammates, she realized that she'd been foolish to think that she could handle this on her own. The initial shame she'd felt at finding herself kidnapped and almost raped was quickly dissipating. Together, the team talked about everything that had happened. JJ and Emily both expressed how they'd felt while they were there, the hopelessness. Emily found that it felt good to talk about what had happened, though she knew it would still take time to heal her psychological wounds. She also knew that her team, her family, would be there to help her through it.


End file.
